


Secret of Frost and Moon

by Alaia_Skyhawk



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Family, Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:40:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 51,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaia_Skyhawk/pseuds/Alaia_Skyhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When death turns out not to be the end, you can't help but ask for what purpose you were brought back. Reborn from ice, Jack can only wonder why... and wait for the day the Moon tells him what he plans. For not even Sandy can get any answers. (Jack's 300 years up to and including the film, but with him remembering who he was right from the start)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Ice, He Rose

Alaia Skyhawk: After succumbing to temptation, despite the workload of my Merlin fics, I'm starting on this after toying with ideas in my mind about how I could twist things (and yet keep major events the same) by having Jack retain his memories after being reborn as Jack Frost. The result is this story, which will follow a series of 'what ifs' as I create my own version of Jack's 300 year past, up to and beyond the events of the film. I'll likely get around to reading the books at some point as well, so I can work bits of info from them in, but I'll be going with ROTG's version of Bunny. I can't remember exactly where, but a fic I've been reading has the Bunny from the books as being his future and far less cranky self. The idea gives a logical reason for Bunny being different, so I'll be going with it. Kudos to whoever's fic it was I picked that up from :)

But anyway, enough of my chit chat. On with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

-

Secret of Frost and Moon

Summary: When death turns out not to be the end, you can't help but ask for what purpose you were brought back. Reborn from ice, Jack can only wonder why... and wait for the day the Moon tells him what he plans.

~(-)~

Chapter 1: From Ice, He Rose

The voices echoed around him in the darkness, the cold... Who they belonged to, he wasn't sure. All he could recall was the gloom of the water around him, here beneath the ice. Who was he? Why were the voices so familiar?

It's ok. It's ok. Don't look down, just look at me.

The sound of cracking ice shuddered through him as the boy spoke, and a girl replied with fear.

Jack. I'm scared.

I know, I know, but you're going to be alright. You're not going to fall in. Um, we're going to have a little fun instead.

No we're not!

Would I trick you?

Yes! You always play tricks!

She sounded scared, so scared, but the boy's voice persisted. Calm, persuasive, reassuring.

Well, all right, but not this time. I promise, you're... You're going to be fine. You have to believe in me... You want to play a game? Let's play hopscotch! Like we do every day. It's as easy as one... whoa! Two... Three!

The girl laughed, as the boy's voice reflected a matter of life and death instead turned into a game.

...All right, now it's your turn...

A gasp of fear, the gradual crackle of the ice's threat, he could hear her begin moving.

One. That's it, that's it... Two... Three!

Both of them began laughing in relief, after the sound of the girl being thrown clear of the cracked ice. The boy sounded happy, so happy, until his laugher was broken off by a cry of surprise when the ice beneath him shattered. That sound followed by the noise of the boy falling into the water as the girl screamed.

JACK!

He shuddered again, not knowing why the voices made him frown. Here where he floated in the darkness... But then a light intruded, pale and beckoning, and he opened his eyes to squint up through the water at it.

The ice above him glowed with that light, cast upon it by the white sphere he could see through its cloudy surface. He was rising towards it, towards the ice, pulled inexorably upwards by some force he couldn't explain. His face touched the ice, but instead of halting him it parted before his presense and he was pulled up into cold air.

He gasped in surprise, and the force that had pulled him upwards now lowered him back to the ice which mended itself as soon as his bare feet touched it. Above him the full moon still watched, patient, and then he heard a whisper in his heart and mind.

" _You are Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter._ "

Jack Frost, for now he knew his name, stared at the moon with wide eyes. Wanting to know more, to ask what that meant, when his single step forward caused him to kick something that rattled upon the ice with the sound of wood.

Distracted by that, he looked down to see it was a long and slender branch, gnarled of surface and yet straight and true from its base, up until its tip where it curled into the shape similar to a shepherd's crook.

He knelt down to pick it up, at the same time puzzled as to why he knew what it resembled when he did not recall what a shepherd was. The grain of the wood's surface frosted over where he touched it, and he began to smile in wonder, until his grip upon it slipped and the base of it dropped to touch the ice.

Jack Frost stared in surprise at the swirling pattern of frost that the wood created when it hit the ice, and with an expression of dawning wonder, he carried it to the shore of the frozen pond. There he touched the crook of the staff to a tree-trunk, marvelling at the patterns of ice that formed like spirals of white fern, and after repeating that with a second tree he began to laugh and dashed back to the pond.

It was a game! One of wonder and beauty as he danced across the pond, spinning and drawing the staff across the surface as much as he could. Laughing and grinning at the spreading frost that he scribed and spread upon the smooth surface like a coating of intricate lace. But that dance was interupted when he reached where the pond stopped beside a risen wall of rock, where the winds that blew across the pond were forced upwards and he was seized by their grasp to follow them into the sky.

Jack Frost yelped in surprise as he was carried up into the air, but that gave way to yet more wonder as he saw his pond from above and saw his frost still spreading across it like icy flowers. But then the updraft suddenly stopped, and bereft of its support he yelped in surprise yet again as he plummeted.

He bounced off several branches, yelping with every impact, until he landed face-down upon one final branch and managed to grab onto it. His fall now ceased, his surprise fading, he began to laugh... That had been _fun_.

He began to sit up, until a distant glimpse of wooden cabins and firelight distracted him from his laughter. He stared at the village, even as he pulled his feet up to crouch on the branch, and then curiousity send him leaping into the air and calling upon the wind without consciously deciding to.

The wind answered, carrying him towards the village as he awkwardly tried to balance himself upon the flow of air. His descent when he reached the settlement was far from graceful, and when he landed his thick, yet short woollen cloak flipped up at the back to flop forward over his head and his face.

He fell over in a tangled heap before righting himself, laughing when he got up and brushed the clumps of snow from his cloak. But he did not notice the cold he was seemingly meant to be wrapped up against. The cloak that covered his thin shirt and waistcoat, was coated with frost at its edges much like the tattered leggings that were bound to his calves above bare feet. The cloak actually seemed almost an afterthought, something he'd been given but he didn't actually need.

Still chuckling to himself, Jack Frost turned to head towards the people who walked around the small settlement, their paths lit by lanterns and a central camp-fire. He greeted several of them, but they ignored him as he danced out of their path. And then he heard the sound of a child laughing as they chased a dog, and he chanced that maybe the youth wouldn't be too busy to answer him.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where I am?"

He crouched so as to be at the boy's eye-level, but the child didn't slow his run straight towards and _through_ him. Jack Frost lurched to his feet, gasping in shock and at the eerie feeling of something that seemingly questioned if he even existed. A feeling that was repeated as in his stumble backwards, several adults also walked through him as if he weren't even there.

Was he some sort of ghost?

Jack Frost scrambled to the edge of the village, where he clung to the corner of a cabin, wide-eyed in bewilderment. It was there that he then noticed the sound of someone weeping inside it, and his eyes at last noticed how many of the adults nearby glanced towards that home with expressions of grim pity.

Jack Frost backed up a step, and turned to look at where shutters covered a window at the side of the cabin. He approached it, something in him demanding he look through the gap which let out a thin sliver of golden light.

Inside, a bearded man of middle years stood braced against one of the walls, his hands clenched in fists of denial. By the hearth a woman sat in a chair, slumped over and sobbing into her hands... and in the far corner upon a bed he somehow knew had been shared by two siblings of this poor frontier family, a young girl lay curled up on her side. Her tear-filled brown eyes peering out from behind a veil of brown hair as she whimpered.

"...Jack."

Outside, at the window, _Jackson Overland_ stumbled backwards as if punched in the gut. While with a sickening wrench everything that had happened, everything he remembered he'd used to be, came rushing back... The voices, the boy and the girl, that had been him and his sister!

"Emily..." He rushed back to the shutters, intending to grab them and fling them open, and yet something prevented him from gaining any purchase on their surface. " _Mother! Father! Emily! I'm right here! I'm here!_ "

He scrabbled at the shutters, then the front door, his hands slipping over both as if they were coated with the very ice he now somehow commanded. After several moments, in desperation, he then grabbed the staff he had dropped and pointed it at the door as if to order aside whatever it was that stopped him from reaching his family. But just as soon as he had it in his hands, an errand and yet purposeful wind snatched him into the air and carried him screaming in protest back to the pond.

He was dumped unceremoniously upon the frozen surface, at the heart of the pattern of frost he had drawn upon it, but that beauty held only dread realisation for him now as he remembered the Moon's words... You are Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter.

"...What? What happened to me?" He looked up at the Moon, full of confusion and anger. "WHY?!"

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: As you might have gathered, I've gone along with the part of the fandom who like to say Jack's sister's name is Emily. I didn't choose it out of any real preference (although my niece has that name lol), but rather since Pippa is the name of one of Jamie's friends, and when I get that far it could get confusing if she and Jack's sister have the same name. So, Emily it is :)


	2. Answers, without Answers

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 2: Answers, without Answers

His screamed question echoed into empty forest, and the Moon stared down at him in silence. Even the winds had died down, creating an eerie scene of utter stillness.

Jack didn't move, refusing to until he got an answer. He'd died, and now he was somehow back from the dead! Confused, angry, and admittedly... frightened. But still he refused to move, to stop staring at the silent and mocking Moon, until a whisper of movement at the cover of his eye made him flinch.

He turned his head to look, but saw nothing but trees. Then it came again at the corner of his other eye, and in moments he was on his feet with his gaze searching the forest around the pond.

"Who's there?"

He almost felt like mocking himself after he said it. If someone was there, they weren't going to hear him. No one back in the village had, so why should it be different here?

A woman's voice whispered behind him, so close it could have been at his shoulder.

"It is different, because you and I are of a kind. I see you, I hear you, and I can answer at least _some_ of your questions."

Jack spun round, but again found only empty air.

"Who are you? Where are you?"

She spoke again, but remained unseen. Close, and yet hidden from his sight.

"I am Mother Nature, and I am all around you. What form I could take to stand before you, is unimportant. I am here to explain that which you need to know, and nothing more."

Jack's tension began to lessen, although he still clenched his staff tightly. It was amazing to think how he already clung to his strange new powers, when in a situation where he feared he might have to defend himself.

"Then tell me, why am I like this? Why me? What am I even supposed to do?"

Something stepped into the moonlight at the edge of the lake, but beyond the blurred glimpse of a woman's face, the figure was like mist. So transluscent, so indistinct, that he could see the forest through her. She was hiding herself from him, he could tell.

She regarded him solemnly, her eyes a faint glitter upon the misty image of her face.

"To answer your first question, you are now a being of spirit. Someone chosen upon their death, to rise again and serve a higher purpose. Specifically, you are the Spirit of Winter, which means you would normally answer to me."

Jack frowned.

"So you're the one who chose me?"

She shook her head.

"No... I created the Spirits of Spring, Summer, and Autumn a very long time ago, but my counterpart, the Man in the Moon, asked that _he_ be permitted to chose who would be the Spirit of Winter. For Winter's snow reflects the silver light of the moon, and casts that radiance through even the darkest of nights. And so, that makes you his 'child', not mine. Even if your duties, for now, will be given to you only by me."

Jack began to advance towards her, but stopped when he met a wall of the same force that had prevented him entering the home of his family. That discovery made him scowl.

" _You_ kept me away from them!"

"For their sake, as well as yours." She came further out onto the pond, still impossible to discern, still just a gauzy shape to his eyes. She hid herself well, in gossamer and starlight, and reached out to cup the side of his face with a hand. Despite all his anger, he couldn't move away. "To them, you died this day. Your parents will never see you again, for only the innocence of a child can become belief, and mortals must believe in your existence in order to see you. So while your mother and father are now lost to you, your sister remains a chance to be seen... But." She lowered her hand. "Emily saw you die today. Her heart will remain closed until she has fully grieved. If you try to approach her now, will only scare her and her parents. You must give her time."

Jack once again stared in bewilderment, utterly lost and close to broken.

"How long? How long will I have to wait?"

Mother Nature smiled, or at least he thought she did.

"You may approach her after next winter's first snow upon this valley. Until then, you will practice, and learn, and carry out that which is now your role. Since I created the other Spirits of the Seasons, I have been the one to shepherd winter between the north and the south of this world with the cycle of each year, but now that is your task. Worry not about finding where to go, the Winds will take you where you need to be. You need only ask them. But be warned, you may linger here until early spring and return in late autumn, but do not remain here for summer. You are new, and you are not strong enough for that yet. Summer's warmth will only hurt you, and you would be away from South's winter if you stayed here... And with that, I bid you farewell for now, Jack Frost. We shall speak again only when time and task require it."

She vanished like mist, before giving him the chance to utter even a single word more, and once again he was alone. Stood upon the frozen pond, with only the silent moon for company.

He turned his head to look in the direction of the village, considered returning to it, but then tightened his grip upon his staff and turned his back. Grim and determined to make the best of the situation he now found himself in, as shakily he called out in tentative request.

"Wind... Take me to where winter needs me to be."

The wind which had been absent in the presence of Mother Nature, rushed down across the pond and lifted him high up into the sky, as high as the clouds. Up there he then tumbled in its grasp with the awkward flight of a fledgeling bird, and his eyes widened with awe at the sight of the land spread out from horison to horison before him. Graced with snow and lit by moonlight, sweeping past beneath him as the winds carried him towards the distant mountains to the north.

The wind hadn't seemed to be in a particular rush, when Jack eventually became accustomed enough to being tossed around like a snowflake that he actually dozed off. It was only when he was slammed into a snowbank on the side of a mountain, that he woke up to the oddest feeling and stood up with a start.

As if it were something he had done every day of his life, Jack climbed up out of the hole he'd made in the steeply-stacked powder and stood upon a surface that wouldn't have supported even a mouse without starting to slide. The odd feeling kept him there, motionless, as he tried to figure out what it meant. There were clouds in the sky here, and he was so high up the mountains that he could see the sun starting to rise far to the east. That light began to warm, ever so slightly, the rock which remained unburried by snow. That warmth began to spread, and even the surface of the snow warmed slightly. Enough, he knew, to partially melt the surface snow, which would re-freeze from the cold beneath to create a hard crust over soft powder. One that a gut instinct told him would be covered by a layer of wetter, heavier snow within the next few hours.

That gut instinct also told him that heavy, packed snow put over loose powdery snow, would take only the smallest of triggers to set off an avalanche.

Jack tilted his head suddenly, as the winds circled close and seemed to whisper to him. The avalanche here would happen on its own, the mountain was steep enough, but in other places close to roads that people had built, the mountains clung to their snow much more stubbornly. People were noisy, that noise could set those avalanches off if they were below and careless, and that would get them burried and killed.

Jack nodded to himself, somehow understanding what the wind was trying to tell him. As the Spirit of Winter, one of his jobs would be to find the most dangerous untriggered avalanches and set them off when no one was below to get hurt by them. But even as he realised that, he heard the wind whisper again, to tell him that he wouldn't be expected to find them all. There were too many mountains, and people were beginning to spread too far across the lands of the world to watch over them all. People would still die in winters, from snow and ice and cold, but that was just the way of things. That was the way nature worked. The way that he had died was proof of that.

Jack sighed at the stab of pain that thought caused, and with an action as absent as his clamber out of the snow, he leapt lightly and floated upwards until with surprise he realised he wasn't riding a gust of wind. It was as if, with thought alone, he could drift on air like the snowflake he'd earlier likened himself to. He didn't need wind to fly, but it did make him go much _much_ faster.

He couldn't help it, the smile of mischief that crept onto his face as with a whoop of exhilleration he flung himself skyways and dared the winds to a race. They answered, carrying him so fast down the far side of the mountain that a plume of powdery snow was whipped up by their joint passage.

Jack played with the wind for a while after that, until the sun neared zenith and the odd feeling impinged on his awareness again. There was a bad avalanche place nearby, and it prodded at the edge of his awareness like an aching bruise. It didn't take long for him to find it, and even less for him to set it off once he'd assured himself there was nothing below. And the manner in which he did it?

Mother Nature would have just nudged it and gone on her way, but not Jack Frost. No, Jack chose to dive into the trecherous snowback as if it were the pond back home in summer. That impact setting in motion a massive casade of snow, which he rode with glee and became burried in once it reached the bottom.

And if it took him almost an hour to figure out how to use his powers to dig himself out, he didn't mind... It had been too much _fun_ for him to care about that.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yeah, Jack is admittedly blanking out worries about his sister, by focusing his mind on other things. But then his ability to turn aside worry and fear by using fun, is why the Moon chose him :)

And also, I deliberately haven't described what Mother Nature looks like. I'll leave that to you all to imagine, so in that way I won't clash with the books when she does show up in those :)


	3. Winter's Shepherd

Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, I see a lot of my readers from the Merlin section, like ROTG as much as I do :) (ADDED: Anyone on AO3 reading this, I'm posting my back-archive of chapters over to this site. So if I mention my Merlin fics, they're on Fanfiction net. It would take too long to alter all these Author Notes lol)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 3: Winter's Shepherd

Spring thaw was moving in, and Jack didn't need to see the grass peeking through the thinning snow to realise that. He felt it in his very bones, the inexorable wane of winter's hold in the north. The winds told him that too, that the Northern Winter would soon end. But it wasn't an abrupt change, he could feel that the Northern Spring was already starting. It was as if the two or three weeks either side of the seasonal boundaries, were a time when the previous season coexisted with the next.

But even so, the winds told him that spring was coming, or rather, the Spirit of Spring. She was in Europe, they said, but would leave there and come here in a few days, moving east-to-west across the world like the passage of the sun. They told him that she wouldn't mind if he were still here when she arrived, that the Spirits of the Seasons were meant to cooperate at times when one season flowed into the next. Yet Jack didn't want to meet her, not now... He just wasn't ready for it.

Jack sighed, floating down upon the winds to land on the roof of his family's cabin. Emily was sat on the steps of the porch, gazing sadly across the village without actually looking at anything. He knew why... It was March now, specifically the fourteenth. Today would have been his nineteeth birthday.

He floated down now to land beside her, kneeling so that he was at the same eye-level.

"Stay safe, Emily, and don't cry for me too much. When the first snow of next winter comes to our village, I'll be here, and I'll try to help you see me again."

Jack reached out as if to cup the side of her face, but held off from actually touching her. He didn't want the strange way he turned misty-blue and ephemeral, when people who didn't believe in him passed through him, to spoil the illusion that he was able to comfort her right now.

He stood, bowing his head in reluctance, and forced himself to turn away. But not before he touched the tip of his staff to the edge of the porch where the sunlight shone on it. Emily heard the faint crackle of forming frost, and turned her head to look. She saw the frost-patterns, frowning a little in confusion as to how they'd gotten there, before a small smile of wonder lit her face at the way the icy crystals glittered in the sun when she moved her head.

Jack felt a lightening in his heart at that, and soared up into the air over the village. Once he was high enough that the gusting winds wouldn't distrurb or startle anyone, he then called to them to take him south to wait for the start of the Southern Winter.

The winds obliged more than happily with the request, and he glided in their grasp with the grace of three months of daily practice. He still had the occational shaky moment or bad landing, but he was getting used to the idea and task of flying. The winds had also become his only company, and while he was already begining to cherish his burgeoning friendship with them, it wasn't the same as being seen and talked to by people. He craved that contact, more than anything.

Jack remained lost in his thoughts as the winds carried him south, his soft sighs of loneliness lost in that rush of air. It didn't take long for the winds to release him at the top of a mountain, where it seemed snow clung to the peak's tip all year round, but he could see that towards its base autumn was still in full swing.

Jack considered going exploring, having already overflown most of the south of the world but for the South Pole region of ice. Compared to the north, other than that cap there was very little land in the south where his snow was needed and could fall. And the areas where frost could now begin forming did not need his attention. That was something else the winds had told him. Frost being on the ground after nighttime didn't mean it was winter. They'd shown him desserts during the nights, where it became very very cold even though it was summer in those regions. Frost formed on the surface of the dunes during the night in the desserts, which was why creatures living there would hide in the warm sands until the sun rose and everything became unbearably hot again.

He settled down in a snowbank, letting it pillow his head as he mulled over that. He commanded frost and snow, but frost still formed on its own during the early weeks of spring, and the late weeks of autumn. He supposed it was nature's way of showing the transition between seasons. Frost would mingle with the tender shoots of emerging spring flowers at the border between winter and spring, and trees would still be bearing fruit and berries, and some even clinging to their browned leaves, when frost began to trace over everything at the boundary between autumn and winter.

Maybe that was Mother Nature's doing, or maybe it was just the way things were anyway. She hadn't been around forever, the winds had told him that, and they also told him that the seasons used to flow between each other just fine in the uncountable years before the Spirits of the Seasons had begun to be chosen. It was just that the Seasons were a bit more organised these days. Even if, to mortals, things would seem as prone to random change as ever. But Jack now knew that was because he and the other Spirits of the Seasons had to change things a little now and then. Again, it was the winds who had told him that, even if the knowledge hadn't sat well with him.

In the end he sat in his snowbank for close to two months, leaving only when instinct told him it was time for winter to sweep over the south. But not many people lived in the south of the world, not compared to the north, and not compared to the numbers who lived in snowy places there. It meant there were little-to-no places where he needed to trigger avalanches, and very few children he could watch having snowball fights. In the end he decided to go explore the Southern Ice Cap, the South Pole, when the winds tugged at him eager to show him. But what they led him to was by far nothing he had expected.

The winds dropped him, not literally, on a high plateau where he could sense the ice below him was hundreds of feet thick. There, upon the windswept top of the glacier, he began forming fantastical constructions of ice and snow to amuse himself... Until several little somethings came clambering up out of a nearby crevasse in the glacier.

Jack stared at them once he'd noticed their presence, blinking as he tried to grasp what they could possibly be. They were barely a foot tall, had little bare feet and hands like a person, but were rendered almost completely rounded by fluffy white fur which hid completely the true length of arms and legs, and however slender they might actually be under all that fur.

He blinked again, when the winds whispered something in his ears, and realisation dawned. He'd seen Spring Sprites during his travels, although only twice as spring had begun to approach, and the winds had told him they served Ariko, the Spirit of Spring. What the winds told him now was that these were Winter Sprites, _his_ servants, and he started to smile. He might have only seen two Spring Sprites, but that had been enough for him to tell they didn't actually do anything helpful for the season. They just seemed to exist for the express purpose of running around giggling like miniature, pointy-eared children with exceptionally big eyes and tiny noses. They were, to put it simply, cute, funny, and really rather useless at anything else.

Jack smiled at the sprites, crouching down to their level and holding out his hand to them.

"Hey there, I'm Jack Frost. The Spirit of Winter."

The cluster of sprites blinked at him, their black eyes wide and innocent amid their white fur giving them the cuteness of baby seals, and then all of them squealed in excitement and all of them charged at him to bury him under a pile of fur and hugs. He just had to guess that they'd been stuck down here at the South Pole for a long, _long_ time without a Spirit of Winter to look to, and that by now having a master they were very _very_ happy.

Jack eventually shooed them off him so he could get up, to which they then began bouncing up and down in the snow and skittering back and forth between him and the crevasse. They wanted him to follow, so he did, as the winds gently carried him and the sprites down to where a tunnel in the ice came into view.

The sprites landed in it, chattering away excitedly in whatever language it was they used as they led him along the tunnel. He was deep below the surface now, he knew, very deep, and yet a faint glint of daylight still seeped through the ice here. Or was it that the ice glowed?

Jack ran his hand along the rippled walls, still following the sprites, until at last they reached their destination and he stopped and stared in awe.

It was a massive cavern within the glacier, with stalagmites and stalactites of ice reaching between floor and ceiling. As soon as he set foot in it, a shiver of unknown recognition went through him, and from the air a gentle scattering of snowflakes began to fall. Whispering down and settling to carpet the floor of the cavern, and yet he somehow knew the snow would never become more than an inch or two deep.

Jack walked forward, rather than flying, feeling that somehow to rush would be to disrespect this place. He felt... at home here. This place was _his_ , he just knew it, and that was confirmed when he reached a sort of plaza at the far side of the cavern.

It was a simple circular area, where no snow settled and where the ice was perfectly flat and smooth, and it was marked with an elaborate snowflake several feet in diameter. 'The Winter Sanctuary' was what a single tendril of wind whispered in his ears, and Jack smiled. The other Spirits of the Seasons had their special place to go to when they weren't needed, a place to go rest, and this was his.

He looked around, and up at the moonlight which had chosen now to reach through a hole in the ice above him which he hadn't realised was there. A hole through which no snow fell and no wind blew; the weather out on the glacier did not intrude down here. He smiled into that light, at the Man in the Moon, and then he began to laugh. This cavern was pretty, and big, and awe-inspiring, but it was also a bit boring... It was time to make it more _fun_.

~(-)~

Winter Sprites squealed in excitement, jumping up and down waving their arms in a sort of 'pick me! pick me!' motion. Jack laughed at that, stood atop the rather basic castle of sorts he'd made next to the Sanctuary Plaza. From the top of that structure, several looping slides of ice extended out and wove among the nearby stalagtites and stalagmites, and they were what the sprites wanted to ride.

And the way in which they rode them?

Jack grinned wickedly, flicking his staff over the fur of the next couple of 'lucky' furballs. Both of them were instantly coated in ice, rendered completely immobile, and yet beneath their icy covering they were giggling. Jack pushed them to the brink of one of the slides, and nudged them over the edge so that they whizzed away along the frigid track while the sprites still on the top of the building continued to jump up and down waving their arms. They'd been alone for so long, they adored his company and adored the games he came up with for them. But one thing kept distracting him now, after the months he'd been here waiting for the seasons to turn.

Autumn was half-done in the north, he could sense that. And as amusing as it was to freeze solid his all-too-willing little minions, so he could push them down increasingly elaborate ice-slides, one thought now intruded on his mind and heart.

It wasn't long now until winter could return to the north, not long until the first snow could fall on the village. He wanted to go home, to what he'd begun to think of as _his_ pond... He wanted to see his sister.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: If you want to know how to picture the Winter Sprites, think of North's elves, with smaller ears, and cover them with white fur so thick they almost look like furry snowballs, before adding baby-seal eyes. Yep, they're cute :)


	4. Meetings and Disdain

Alaia Skyhawk: Time for Jack to meet one of his fellow Seasonal Spirits :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 4: Meetings and Disdain

Jack glanced back at his sanctuary, before he headed out the tunnel to depart. The Winter Sprites were still playing on the ice-slides, still giggling and laughing among themselves, and he couldn't help but worry if they'd miss him. He'd have come back for them once the Nothern Winter started, but wasn't confident at this point that he'd be able to track them all down and bring them home once the season ended, even with the help of the winds. But, if the way they never tired of the slides was an indication, they probably wouldn't miss him too much. He could just expect to be flattened with hugs when he came back to the Sanctuary next Southern Autumn.

He stepped into the tunnel, the snowfall in the cavern ceasing the moment his presense left it, and then jumped into the air to fly the rest of the way down and out the passage. The sun was shining outside upon the glacier, and the winds welcomed him back into the open skies, before he asked them to take him northwards over lands which were now under the dominion of spring.

Feeling that season's gentle yet firm grasp on the land, Jack mulled to himself over something else he'd figured out. Mother Nature hadn't told him to stay south because it was neccessary, but to keep him from being tempted to approach his sister. It was obvious by this point that the Spirits of the Seasons didn't really need to do all that much work. If he were to total up the amount of time he'd spent on neccessary duties in the past ten months, and the amount he expected he'd have to do during the last two months of his first year at this, it only amounted to about four solid weeks' worth of hours. If it were the same for the other Spirits of the Seasons, and the winds whispered to him that it was, then each spirit worked at most for a month of time, leaving them with eleven months of time to do whatever they wanted.

Inwardly Jack wished he could have done his month of work in one go without sleeping, instead of dragging it out over six months, especially given that three of those six he'd only needed to go out to tend avalanches for one hour a week. During Northern winter he'd flown around tending things for up to four hours per _day_.

He sighed, soaring past the invisible line that divided the north of the world from the south of the world. He also resolved to see how much else Mother Nature had deliberately discouraged him from with her words. He wouldn't be surprised in the slighest if she'd lied about summer's warmth harming him.

As if to prove that point to himself, the winds diverted his path to a massive and frigid island north-west of England, which the gusting wind told him was called Greenland by people. Parts of Greenland had active volcanoes, whose heat rose far, far up into the sky. The wind carried Jack through those collumns of warmth, even taking him down closer to the volcanoes himself when he asked them to.

After flitting around the fiery manifestations of heat incarnate for an entire afternoon, Jack eventually settled on a rock within a stone's throw of a lava flow and the heat radiating from it. It was far hotter than a typical summer, and while admittedly he felt stifled, the faint haze of water-vapour condensing into mist around him was proof his powers were having no trouble keeping him as cold as he needed to be. He proved it further by walking close enough to the lava, that the chill radiating from him in defence against its heat caused its edge to turn black and solid.

Jack shook his head and took flight again, this time to return to his pond and the village. He really wasn't surprised that Mother Nature had told that one small lie. He would be the first to admit he'd never have left the village if not for her warning, and if he'd done that he wouldn't have found the Winter Sanctuary or the Winter Sprites. He wouldn't have learnt the several important lessons which had already woven themselves into his being... The most important one being that he was no longer human, and couldn't expect to live a normal human life. He could, perhaps, live on the fringes if he was sensible about it, but he also couldn't grow too attached. He had to maintain a certain distance, or he'd just hurt himself more in the long run.

He would have to remind himself that he would see his sister grow old and die while he remained unchanged. He would have to build up a wall between himself and those emotions, which he could put himself behind when that day came. If he didn't, he knew he would break.

Soon America was flowing past beneath him, and the familiar landscape around the village came into view. Jack drifted down to his pond with a sigh, his feet touching the water and creating a small platform of ice for him to stand on. From there he admired the fiery golds, reds, and browns of the autumn forest, whose leaves were still only half-fallen to the ground. He then noticed that fine tendrils of frost had snaked out from his platform, and that the entire edge of the pond now had a rim of ice.

He noticed that, at the same moment the Autumn Sprite, that had been dipping its toes in the pond's edge, leapt back in surprise at almost being trapped in ice before proceeding to run off through the trees yelling at the top of its little lungs.

Jack instantly cringed, broke his ice-platform, and dropped into the water to sink to the bottom of the pond. He then sat there, praying to Moon and Mother Nature that he hadn't just committed some form of breech of courtesy to Autumn.

He stayed there, just above the mud, until a shadow drifted overhead and stayed there. It circled a little, then stopped, and he had the distinct feeling that someone was peering down at where he was.

With a small frown of uncertainty, Jack headed for the surface. The water sliding off his face, hair, and shoulders when he reached it as if he'd never been submerged at all. He then eyed the figure that floated above the water, watching him. A seemingly middle-aged man with a short beard, garbed in russet firs and leather, and carrying a hatchet on his belt and a hunting bow in his hand. It made him resemble a combination of a woodsman and lumberjack. Jack then noticed the Autumn Sprite watching him as well from the edge of the pond, chittering away agitatedly, and winced when it became obvious who the 'woodsman' was.

Jack rose the rest of the way out of the water to float above it, and kept his head bowed in nervousness.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freeze anything yet. The edges just iced up as soon as I arrived."

The Spirit of Autumn regarded him solemnly, and then smiled wryly.

"It's your pond, and it's seven weeks until your season, not all that long." He gestured to the woods around them. "This place has resounded with the echo of winter, even when you weren't here. The Spirit of Spring, Ariko Blossomsinger, by all accounts ambushed Achieng Sunblessed, the Spirit of Summer, after sensing that echo here. Ariko was so excited that Mother Nature has finally made a Spirit of Winter, or at least she will have been until Southern Spring distracted her a few weeks ago." He looked around at the ice-rimmed pond. "But even if Achieng hadn't told me, I'd have sensed you'd been here. This is where you were reborn, correct?"

Jack hesitated, somewhat unwilling to discuss his death, but decided he might as well get it over with.

"I... fell through the ice and drowned here last winter, but apparently the world wasn't done with me yet."

The Spirit of Autumn grinned, almost friendly.

"Then this pond is definitely yours. My place of rebirth is back in England. I misjudged a tree I was felling, it landed on me, and the grove where it happens remains mine. I woke up afterwards as I am now. I am Oisin Leaffall, the Spirit of Autumn."

Jack nodded his head in respect, and straightened up.

"I am Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter."

Oisin continued to smile.

"So, how much have you figured out so far, about your new 'life'? Did Mother Nature tell you to avoid summer?"

Jack snorted.

"Yes, she told me the warmth would harm me, but I've figured out she just wanted me to leave the place of my death for long enough not to want to cling to this place all year. When my mere presense can freeze _lava_ , I doubt that summer's warmth will give me much trouble."

Oisin chuckled.

"Very true. What else have you learnt?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, starting to gain confidence in this encounter.

"That Mother Nature makes it sound like it's much more work that it actually is." He frowned. "What do you and the others do to fill all your spare time? Apart from shepherding my season north and south, all I have to do is find bad avalanches and set them off when there's no one below to be hurt by them. I have so much free time, that I spent most of Southern Winter bored to the brink of tears when I wasn't keeping my Winter Sprites entertained."

The Spirit of Autumn tilted his head, and conjured an arrow with which he then drew his bow. He fired the arrow into the trees at the edge of the pond, and immediately leaves began to rain down from some of them.

"My job is to make sure all the trees that drop their leaves, and drop them when they're meant to, for sometimes they cling to them for more or less time than they should. If they lose them too early, they lose energy from the sun that will help them sprout again in spring. Too late, and it's a similar problem. The frosts kill the leaves before the sap in them can be drawn back into the trunk, costing the tree strength it could use in spring after spending winter to rest. Fruit trees and bushes that have suffered like that, can produce a poor crop the following year. That in turn can harm the people and animals that depend on them for food during your season."

Jack winced, at the reminder of how his season was as much a killer as a time for the land to rest.

"So what do Ariko and Achieng do?"

Oisin snorted in a kind of humoured disdain for his peers.

"Ariko makes those trees and bushes I mentioned, flower at the correct times. She's obsessed with blossom, but that's probably because of where she was from before she died. In Nippon, or as it is called by the people of this land, Japan, they believe cherry trees are blessed." He shrugged what what he clearly considered to be foolishness, and continued. "Achieng's job is to handle the summer wildfires, which are common in the lands where she is from. She was from a tribe somewhere on the plains of Africa. Of course, all of us handle the bad side of our seasons as well. We can't keep things kind for humans all the time, there has to be balance."

Jack frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Oisin's smile faded into seriousness.

"When Mother Nature detects that the balance of nature needs to be settled, depending on the season, she will call one of us and say what she needs and where. So while I protect the harvest most years, sometimes I am told to make the leaves fall early, or make it rain too much. When that happens, the harvest suffers. Achieng can be asked to start a wildfire instead of control them, or bring a drought to an area that normally gets enough rain. She may even be asked to bring too much rain. Ariko is the same, she controls rain. If the ground is too wet, and she does not bring warmth as swiftly as normal, seeds can rot in the ground before they can sprout. It sounds cruel, but nature isn't always fair, and so we aren't always fair either."

Jack pulled his arms around himself, holding his staff close.

"So what you're saying is that, I may be told to conjure terrible blizzards or freezing rain to coat things in ice, possibly even in areas where people will be killed by them?"

Oisin nodded solemnly.

"It will take a while to accept. Trust me, I know. Sometimes we are even asked to bring our season early, or late, to an area. The first time you're asked to do that, or to bury a town under snow, you'll hesitate. But remember this, if you don't do it, then Mother Nature will do it herself, and she's not as subtle with it as we would be. You'd pause, thinking perhaps you could spare them, but instead it would only mean more of them coming to harm. Take my advice, and do what Mother Nature wants you to do, when she tells you to do it. You'll spare yourself far more pain that way, while you get used to this new life of yours."

Oisin rose upwards on a breeze as if to leave, and Jack called out after him.

"And how long have you been the Spirit of Autumn?"

Oisin paused and looked down.

"I stopped counting a while back, but it's been more than a thousand years. Achieng has been around a couple of centuries longer than me, and Ariko was the first of us. Heed my advice, Jack Frost, and maybe in a decade or so we will talk again."

Jack gaped at him.

"A _decade?!_ "

Oisin regarded with a pitying smile. As if he were some small child who didn't grasp the harshness of reality.

"We Spirits of the Seasons don't speak to each other much. Except when we're moving our seasons, or doing our small tasks, we live in our sanctuaries. I've no doubt you'll build something for yourself if you haven't already found it, and in time you'll understand why we keep to ourselves."

Jack headed up into the air, following after the departing Spirit of Autumn.

"Wait! Do... Do any of you have people who believe in you? Children who can see you?"

Oisin stopped, and looked back with a haughty expression. Whatever friendliness or good humour he'd shown before now, gone beneath a hardened perception of the world.

"We're the Spirits created by Mother Nature. We serve her and nature gives us our power. Why should we seek the belief of children? We are not like the Legend Immortals created by the Man in the Moon, we do not _need_ the belief that _their_ power depends on. We work alone."

Oisin departed on a gust of air barely short of being a gale, and when he was gone from sight, Jack scowled and muttered to himself.

"Mother Nature may have made me the Spirit of Winter, but it was the Man in the Moon who chose me... I'll never settle for being alone. I'll never settle for not being believed in."

He turned in the air and flew off to the village, where he then settled himself on a roof to watch the children below. From there he spotted his sister, running around and laughing, and smiled to himself.

Soon. He could try to gain her belief in him, soon.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, Jack already doesn't like his fellow Seasonal Spirits. Why? Because they're boring, unsympathetic snobs. They were chosen because they had the ability to wield the good and bad of their seasons without caring if people got hurt by them, because nature isn't generally fair, but Jack was chosen by the Man in the Moon... Ariko, Achieng, and Oisin are seriously going to have no clue what to think of him hehehe :)


	5. To Believe, To See

Alaia Skyhawk: Well if I was going to have any particular chapter to put up today (Other than Part 2 of Kindness of Strangers in my Merlin fic, which I'll put up later on), it had to be this one. Cuteness, joy, and sibling fluffiness.

And if any of you have the soundtrack for the film, I wrote this while listening to "Jamie Believes". I highliy suggest you have it playing while you read this :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 5: To Believe, To See

It was several weeks later, in the dead of night, that Jack felt the pull of winter's impending arrival. He smiled as he rose up from the banks of the pond and into the winds, knowing that what will seem a short journey to him will in fact take him around the entire north of the world. Past China, Russia, Europe, and then home to America.

He wasn't going to linger in each region like the other Seasonal Spirits did, his plan was all about speed. He need only shepherd winter into place, then let it settle in each region at the pace suited to them. He could then spend the nights as Emily slept, flying to deal with whatever avalanches the winds told him he needed to go sort out. The rest of his time, would be his.

With a laugh he swept up into the sky, blasting westwards seeding the first snowclouds in his wake, while winter trailed his passage like a great cloak of cool air which would lace the edges of everything with a thin layer of frost. The lands he passed were just a blur to his eyes, and he cared little if his fellow Spirits thought he was being reckless or foolish. He didn't care what they thought of him, not in the slightest in fact. He was himself, and no-one could say he had to have the same stuck-in-a-rut attitude as they did. Spring may have gossiped with Summer after discovering the trace of his power, Autumn may have been told by Summer, but Oisin's almost casual dismissal of clinging to any kind of human concern chilled Jack in a way that ice never would. Something in him refused to become like that, and he would never let that part of him be broken.

Jack grinned, revelling in the speed of the wind and the first snows he was leaving upon the higher slopes and plateaus as he passed over them. Soon he was catching up with the dawn, passed it, and then was racing ahead of it as he swept across the Atlantic Ocean... And then he was back where he belonged, drifting down to land upon a pond which became covered with it's first thin film of winter ice the moment he touched it. Around him, a trace of dusty snow lay scattered upon ground and tree, and his smile softened.

The time had come for him to approach his sister.

He flew to the village, and watched as Emily, a year older and bigger than that day on the ice, came out of his family's cabin to collect wood from the pile out back. He changed position on the roof so that he could watch her, wary of the closeness of other children and adults who were coming out of homes to start the new day.

Jack bided his time, knowing he had to wait until she'd finished her chores and would be allowed to go play. Luring her away from the village before then, would only get her into trouble. So he remained on the roof, patiently watching. But then, before he could make any move, one of Emily's friends, Claire, rushed up to the cabin shouting.

"Emily! Emily, can you come play yet? Me and Albert have finished our chores!"

Emily came to the door of the cabin, smiling.

"I just have to finish sweeping."

Jack felt like he'd been punched in the gut, as hope shattered into disappointment and frustration. He then watched as his sister came out of the cabin a few minutes later, and followed her friend to where several other children were taking turns to use the rope-swings hanging from one of the big trees at the village's edge.

He flew over to it and sat high in the branches, looking down at the children as they laughed and played oblivious to his presense. Overhead the clouds thickened without him noticing, until large snowflakes began to drift down much to his surprise. His emotions had started the snow falling, he was going to have to be careful about that in future.

But then, below him, the laugher became tinged with wonderment. He looked down, to see all the children looking up at the sky and reaching out hands to catch the falling snowflakes. A sudden impulse then filled him, and without thinking he conjured several more snowflakes to add unseen to the falling ones. Each one he made then floated to a child, and one-by-one landed on noses and melted in a glitter of blue motes that only he could see.

Each child began to laugh, and the entire group surged into a spontaneous game of tag, which then led to hide and seek. Jack watched them with a kind of awe, for he knew that even in the wonder at the sight of falling snow, winter scared children deep inside. They feared the long cold, the longer nights, just as he had once done when he was small. And yet, just now, something in him had reached out. The fear of the impending hardships of winter, which he knew had lain in each of them, had been pushed back by laughter and joy... by a sense of _fun_.

He started to laugh, and dropped down to the ground to run among them. To join in their games even if they couldn't see him, hear him, and even though they often ran through him. Because when he was with them, when he gifted them with laughter and glee, he couldn't help but share in that.

But soon the light began to fade, parents and evening chores beckoned, and Jack watched Emily and the others return to their homes and parents. He slept on the roof of the cabin that night, with winter still too new for him to have duties anywhere else yet. And when the following day, and the one after it, continued as that first one did without Emily being alone so he could approach her, he didn't mind. The frustration didn't return, because even though she couldn't see him, he was making her and the others happy.

It was on the ninth day of winter when it came, the moment when she finished her chores first and told her mother she was going for a walk. Jack followed her into the woods, drifting through the air ahead of her and making sure no wolves or bears were near.

When she came to a stop, she was near the pond. Able to see it through the trees, where it glisttered with swirls of frost across the thin layer of ice that covered it. Her lip then began to tremble, tears welled up in her eyes, and Jack knew. Winter had returned, and with it the pain of memories, the pain of having watched him plunge beneath the ice and disappear.

Jack landed near her, his expression full of sorrow. He'd watched the villagers search the pond when spring had melted the ice enough to look, but they'd found nothing but his ice-skates and had assumed some predator in the woods had found his body before them and dragged it away. He'd watched his family dig his grave, and lower into it a coffin which was empty but for those skates. And by the tears now flowing down his sister's face, he knew she was remembering that... Now, more than any other time, he knew it was his best chance to kindle her belief in him.

He stepped over to the tree nearest her, and tapped it with his staff, the sudden spread of fern-like frost upon it startling her. He then trailed a thin line of frost over the ground towards the next tree, and wove it up that trunk too.

Emily stared, remaining utterly still for what seemed an eternity before she walked towards the second tree, reaching out to touch the frost. She then jumped a little in surprise as a weaving line of frost then darted across the snow-dusted ground and leaves to wrap around the next tree along the trail.

It was the innate wonderment of a child, the desire to discover all that was magical in the world, which had her follow the dancing trail of frost from tree-to-tree. But then she found herself on the shore of the pond, and she shivered in fear as she took a step backwards away from the icy water. But then the mysterious trail of frost ran down from the final tree, past her feet, before it spread and flowed out to draw a pattern of squares upon the dirt beside the water.

Jack watched her, his heart thumping in his chest with nerves and hope and fear that she wouldn't believe. He then stooped down to pick up a stone, throwing it lightly to land in one of the squares, and hopped along the pattern to pick it up while leaving a little blot of frost wherever he landed.

Emily watched with wide, tearful eyes, and then flinched back with a small yelp when the stone seemed to float up from its square on its own, and was tossed in her direction. It landed at her feet, and as she looked between it and the hopscotch pattern, more frost swirled on the ground between it and her as if inviting her to play.

She reached down, hesitating a moment before cautiously picking up the stone. And then she threw it to land in a square at the far end of the pattern.

Unseen, Jack hopped along the grid, leaving blots of frost again. He stopped at the square with the stone, having drawn the frost to invite her to play, but when he turned she was already hopping along the pattern humming the tune the two of them had always sung while playing hopscotch. He didn't even have the chance to react, he'd expected her to still be stood unmoving outside the pattern, and so he didn't step aside when she reached the square with the stone and stepped right through him.

Jack quickly leapt out of the way, landing in the square behind her. His heart in turmoil at that evidence she didn't believe in him. But then he frowned, noticing that she hadn't picked up the stone. Instead she stood there, silent and motionless, until she spoke with a glimmer of fearful hope in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"...Jack?"

Jack remained where he was, too afraid to move, before he found the courage to answer.

"I'm here, Emily. I'm home."

She let out a sharp gasp, she'd _heard_ him! But like him, she didn't move. She too was afraid that this was some cruel figment of imagination.

"Are you really here, Jack?"

Jack lifted his hand to touch her shoulder, she sounded like she was about to start crying, but stopped. He couldn't bring himself to, lest he pass right through her again and his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Instead he spoke again, soft and urging.

"I'm here... You're going to be all right. You have to believe in me... Would I trick you?"

She bit back a sob, but still didn't turn.

"Yes. You always play tricks."

Jack stepped closer, so that he was right behind her.

"Not this time... I promise."

Emily took a deep, shuddering breath, and bowed her head. She then began to turn, eyes closed and her arms held tightly at her sides. When she faced him, she pushed her hands forward as if expecting to find empty air, and caused Jack to stagger when her palms connected with his gut and did _not_ pass through... She could touch him, and that meant...

His heart continuned to pound, he could barely breathe, as she opened her eyes and saw familiar bare feet and leggings bound to calves, even if the clothing was coated with a fine pattern of frost. Her gaze then travelled higher, to hands, shirt, waistcoat, and familiar woolen cloak which were also graced with frost.

She then stared at where her hands had grabbed fistfulls of cold cloth, with tears of joy running down her face because she _knew_ that this figure before her was her brother... And then, at last, she looked up at his face.

She gasped, letting go of his shirt and stumbling backwards away from him, and Jack's expression softened with regret at her reaction to his hair and eyes.

He sighed.

"Yeah, I've changed a bit, but I'm still me... I'm still the brother you played hopscotch with every day."

Emily was still staring, and then new tears spilled over and she threw herself forward to cry into the front of his shirt.

"Jack!"

Jack crouched down to hold her, tears of his own welling up and freezing into glittering pebbles of ice that fell away.

"I'm here, Emily."

After a few more moments she let go, and moved back again to be able to see him fully. She was trembling with emotion, but instead of joy and happiness, a new one bubbled to the surface. Anger.

" _Where have you been? Why didn't you come home? We were so worried about you! We thought you were dead!_ "

Jack flinched at that, and forced himself to reply truthfully as he stood up.

"That's because... I _did_ die that day. I fell through the ice, I sank, and I drowned... and then the Moon decided to ask Mother Nature to bring me back." He reached out to hold her by the shoulders. "Mother and Father won't be able to touch me, or even see me. No one else in the village will be able to either. You only can because you truly _believe_ I'm here, that I exist. Only children can learn to believe in things like this, that adults would say are impossible. Only those who can look at the world through the eyes of a child, can see that which is unseen... I'm still your Jack, but I'm also Jack Frost, now. I'm the Spirit of Winter, which is why when spring came, I had to leave and wait before I could come back. But I'm here now."

Emily looked at him, anger fading as she breathed in wonder.

"You're the Spirit of Winter?"

Jack grinned, and nodded. His eyes glistening with tears of joy.

"Yep, and I'm the one who brought winter here this year. But don't worry, I'll keep the worst storms away, and when Mother Nature tells me which storms have to happen, I'll make sure to let you know. That way you can make sure everyone in the village knows to stay inside." He touched her nose, nipping it playfully with cold fingers. "And if they ask how you know, you can tell them that your friend, Jack Frost, told you so."

Emily frowed, confused.

"I can't tell them it's you?"

Jack shook his head firmly.

"No. Adults can't learn to believe in the way that children can, not if they've lost the ability to look at the world through the eyes of a child. If you say you have an unseen special friend that told you, they'll think it's a game. But then, after a while, they may start to believe that the village is watched over. And I'll always watch over you when winter brings me home, always." He picked his staff up from where he'd dropped it on the ground, and he grinned again, filled to briming with elation at this moment. "But enough of that... How about you and me have a little fun?"

Emily started to laugh, and nodded eagerly.

"Yes!"

Jack laughed too, and in a graceful flip he leapt into the air and soared out towards the pond. He then danced over its surface, whooping in exhilleration as he thickened the ice and spread out a carpet of glistening frost up the banks of the pond.

Emily laughed and clapped in joy and wonderment at it, before he landed in front of her and held out his hand. She trustingly placed her warm hand in his cold one, and let him lead her onto the ice that minutes before now she was terrified of. He then began to tow her around it, her boots sliding even if they weren't proper skates, in loops and spins that sent her laughter echoing into the air. The darkness of grief and fear had been lifted from her, and in turn his own burden had been lifted. But all too soon he heard their mother calling, and he urged Emily to go back to the village with a mischevous smile.

"Remember, don't tell her or Father."

She returned that grin, and giggled.

"Our secret."

She hurried back towards the village, if a little reluctantly, and Jack remained at the pond to revell in the tremendous swell of emotion that presently filled him. Emily believed in him, his sister could _see_ him.

He was alone as night fell, but he didn't mind. He was too happy, too full of joy, as he smiled up at the Moon. He then spoke to that distant figure, his voice soft.

"This... This feels right, and not just because I _wanted_ her to see me. Seeing her smile, making her fear and pain become laughter, it makes me feel complete. Like this is meant to be. Like this is what I'm meant to do."

The Man in the Moon didn't answer, and Jack sighed.

"Then I guess I should assume your silence means that either I'm right, or you don't care what I choose to do... I'll be the Spirit of Winter that Mother Nature needs me to be, but I'm also going to be 'Jack Frost'. The Spirit of Ice and Snow that protects this village, and who will bring fun and laughter to all the children who live here. And maybe, in time, they'll come to see me as Emily does. The people of the village fear winter, but I want to teach the children that winter isn't to be frightened of. That it's a time for the land to rest... and a time for children to play."

Jack laughed and spun around the pond once, before soaring up into the skies to obey the first call of his winter duties to a distant mountain. Unaware of the Moon's unseen smile, which lasted all night until the sun rose over the village once more... and Jack returned to watch over his sister.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: This chapter makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Happy Christmas, everyone! I hope you all have a lovely day!


	6. Children and Games

**Alaia Skyhawk: lol, I'm loving all this fun and fluff. Onwards!**

 

**Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.**

 

~(-)~

 

Chapter 6: Children and Games

 

Laughter rang out in the air around the pond, air which was subject to the passage of snowballs being flung back and forth. Two months had passed, and winter was entering its final stage, but that didn't matter to the siblings playing among the trees. They were together, here and now, and that was enough.

 

Emily ducked behind a tree as another of Jack's snowballs came her wait, and she shouted out in a voice full of laughter.

 

"No fair! You don't have to grab snow like I do, you can just make it!"

 

Jack's chuckle came from behind a bush, which rustled as he stuck his head up out of it from among snow-laden branches.

 

"I'm the Spirit of Winter, what do you expect?"

 

At that moment he took a snowball to the face, as Emily whooped her success and went racing for a new place to take cover. Jack rose out of his bush and took flight, racing after her and getting her with a snowball to the back. Her squeal of mirth rang out among the trees, reaching the ears of the group of children making their way towards the pond.

 

Emily's friend, Claire, glanced at her brother, Albert, and the rest of the village children. Everyone in the village had noticed how happy Emily had become over the past few weeks. How she had been transformed from a solemn and mostly quiet girl, into one whose smile was like a ray of sunshine instead of gloomy like an overcast day. While the adults hadn't noticed much beyond that, the children had seen her sneaking away into the forest at every chance she got. They'd then seen her returning, flushed with happiness and dusted with snow.

 

Today they'd decided to follow her, and now found her throwing snowballs when there was no one there, and being hit by snowballs in return. Neither she nor her unseen playmate noticed the other children, not until Claire called out.

 

"Emily! Who... Who are you playing with?"

 

Emily dropped the snowball she'd been about to throw and gasped in surprise. She spun to face the small group of girls and boys, then looked to Jack for guidance where he'd landed in the branches of a nearby tree.

 

He smiled at her, and shrugged.

 

"You can tell them. Children aren't adults. Children are allowed to take part in our games. More people to play, means more fun, right?"

 

Emily hesitated, and then faced back to her friends and started to smile.

 

"Can you all keep a secret?" At her secretive whisper, she caught their attention and they nodded eagerly, and she waved an arm to indicate the pond. "This pond is special. It's the home of the Spirit of Winter, Jack Frost... But he's not just any Jack, he's _our_ Jack. After he fell through the ice, the moon lifted him up again and told him he had to look after winter. But Jack is still our Jack, and he still likes to play when he's not too busy spreading snow and frost where it's needed."

 

One of the children, Claire, gasped.

 

"Is it really Jack, your brother?"

 

Beside her, Albert scoffed in sceptisism.

 

"It can't be. She's just making it up because she's still upset her brother died."

 

"Hey!"

 

Jack exclamation went unheard by all but his sister, as he conjured a snowball and threw it past Albert's ear, to which Emily looked at him sharply.

 

" _Jack!_ "

 

Jack grinned unrepentatly, and began leaping from branch to branch among the trees, dislodging snow as he went. The children couldn't see him, but they could see the snow being jolted loose, and hear the faintest echo of a boy laughing. It made them nervous.

 

Another girl, Mary, whimpered.

 

"Is that him?"

 

Emily nodded.

 

"It is, but you have to do something before you can see him. Close your eyes, and believe in him. _Really_ believe. You have to, or you won't see him."

 

Mary and Claire closed their eyes without hesitation, as did three of the four boys. Albert grumbled after that, and closed his as well, while around them Jack kept shaking snow from the trees while Emily spoke softly. Jack knew this was going to work, it wasn't like when he'd kindled Emily's belief in him. This time he had her to kindle her friends' belief for him.

 

"He's dressed the same as he always was, with his cloak, and the edges are covered with frost. His eyes are blue now, his hair is white like snow, and he has a staff that was the stick he used to save me last winter." Jack landed behind her, and she finished. "Now believe, and open your eyes."

 

Claire opened hers first, and gasped when she spotted the white-haired figure stood behind her friend.

 

"I see him! He's real!"

 

Mary was next to open her eyes, then the boys, and they all stared in surprise and wonder as well. Only Albert couldn't see him, and the boy scowled.

 

"You're all making fun of me. There's no one there!"

 

A ball of snow visibly rose from the ground all on its own, and was flung to hit him in the face. That act jolted Albert's belief, as the boy shouted towards the point behind Emily that all his friends were looking at.

 

"What did you do that for?"

 

He stopped and blinked when he realised he could see the person behind Emily, and Jack grinned before leaping into the air to land on a nearby branch.

 

He then waved his staff, chuckling.

 

"So who wants to join in mine and Emily's snowball fight?"

 

"ME!"

 

Within moments everything descended into a chaos of snowballs and laughter, with Jack conjuring piles of snowballs for everyone to use once the snow near the pond had been churned up by all the running around. And when the children sat down to rest on the banks, he entertained them further by skimming around the ice on the pond, in loops and spins and even jumps up into the air.

 

Jack whooped and laughed as they cheered him on, overcome by what seemed like a sudden surge of energy. It wasn't really a great deal, but it was enough to make him itch for movement and play as if he'd been pent up all Southern Winter and Northern Winter had just started. Instead he knew from last year's experience, that he should have been tiring a little by now. It was only after coming to a stop, and bowing to them comically in conclusion of his display, that it dawned on him what had caused it.

 

Their belief... He'd just gained the belief of six more children, and now that he looked for it, he could _feel_ the additional power that gave him. It was but a small flicker in comparison to what he wielded as the Spirit of Winter, but the power that their belief gave him felt warm and happy. It was sunshine glittering on frost, and laughter mixed with snowballs. Was this how all Legend Immortals felt when they had people who believed in them? If so, he wasn't surprised they defended their patches of belief so strongly. He just had to wonder how many of them had turned that protectiveness into bitter possessiveness. How many had lost this feeling of wonder towards the belief of a child?

 

The moment was broken by the nearby call of one of the village adults, signalling it was time for the children to return to their homes.

 

Jack gave them a smile and a wink, chuckling.

 

"Remember... Our secret."

 

Emily and the others nodded, and waved to him before charging through the trees back towards the village. Once they were gone, Jack ascended into the sky to follow the winds' call. There were some avalanches he needed to go deal with.

 

The following morning, after completing their chores, the children all rushed back to the woods to play with him. He was a little tired when they arrived, having had to trigger avalanches in Russia, southern France, and the far north before dashing back here again. But he hid his fatigue and welcomed them cheerfully. Their belief in him pushing away his tiredness. What began now was a truly idyllic time for him, playing with the children in between his other duties as the days then weeks passed, and then spring came and he bid them farewell until next winter's first snows.

 

He returned the following year to a group of very excited children, whose number had increased by two since the two youngest in the village were old enough to be allowed out to the woods. But even as the children came out to the woods to play with him, he warned them never to wander in them if he wasn't there and there was no adult with them either. That winter the games became more than just snowball fights, after Jack started building secret tree-houses out of ice for them to play in.

 

By the third winter the adults were starting to notice. They'd seen the platforms of ice in the trees, and heard the children talking about the Spirit of Winter, Jack Frost. But natural adult doubts interfered with pure and innocent belief, so they couldn't see him even as they gradually began to accept he must exist in some fashion. All they knew was that all the children in the village seemed to know of him., and that he watched over them whenever they were in the woods. Seeing as the children never came to harm, not even the time when there was a bear in the area, Jack's presence began to seep into the subconscious faith of all those who lived in the settlement.

 

He'd seen it in other places, with the minor Legend Immortals he'd taken the slight risk of spying on during the past two years. All of them had still been very particular about their little patch, the small region where they were believed in, and so he'd still kept a tactful distance. The village near his pond was becoming his little patch of belief, and he knew in his heart it always would be.

 

But one thing he had noticed, was that all the children who could see him had forgotten he was once Jackson Overland, Emily's brother. Only she remembered that now, and it seemed that it wasn't meant to be that any but her would know who he used to be.

 

Jack watched her playing with the others, as he took a moment to sit in a tree and have a moment's rest. While he was there, Emily smiled up at him. She was eleven years old now, and had grown so much, but even so she still revelled in these games. And for him, that was enough. He was content.

 

~(-)~

 

**Alaia Skyhawk: And so Emily has spread the belief about Jack, to the other children in the village. Some small time-skips will start happening now, since I don't think doing multiple chapters about each winter he spends his time doing nothing but avalanches and snowball fights, would read all that well. There won't be any overly big jumps yet, but things will move forward to take in the major events I've got planned :)**

 


	7. Protector

Alaia Skyhawk: Time for a bit of action. I hope you guys enjoy it :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 7: Protector

Snow drifted down over the village, the first fall of the season, and the laughter of excited children reached his ears as he flew down from the sky to the settlement's edge.

Jack landed in a tree, smiling widely when the children spotted him, and then he dropped to the ground so they could mob him with hugs of greeting. He then raised his head to look at the older girl walking towards the group, and his expression softened.

This was the sixth winter Emily had believed in him, and she was fourteen now. Her friends, Claire and Mary, had stopped believing in him last winter. Claire's brother, Albert, still believed, but the boy wasn't among those hugging him now. That boy stood a little awkwardly off to the side, and Jack was begining to recognise the signs. This would be the last winter that Albert believed in him. The boy was growing up, and growing out of innocent belief. The worries of the world, of making a living for himself in the future, were starting to take hold.

Emily reached her brother, and started to shoo the younger children away from him firmly. It was late in the afternoon, and the sky was starting to darken.

"Go on, go home. It's getting late. We can all play games with Jack tomorrow once we've finished our chores."

"Awww."

Emily raised her eyebrows at the protests, and nudged them into motion one-by-one.

"You know I'm right, and remember that Jack has just finished bringing winter to all the north. Let him have a rest before you all wear him out with play."

The youngsters walked away with a final wave to Jack, which he returned with a smile. He then walked deeper among the trees, out-of-sight of the village edge, and his sister followed him until he stopped and leaned against a trunk which began to ice over with frost the moment he touched it.

"You've grown. You must be two or three inches taller than when I last saw you. You're really starting to look like a young lady."

There was a slight edge to his voice, and a flicker of fear in his eyes. Emily saw that, and hugged him.

"Don't worry, Jack. Claire and Mary may have forgotten you, but I never will. I could never forget my brother, ever. I promise, I'll never stop believing in you, even when I'm old and grey."

Jack put his arms around her, resting his head on hers as he held her tight.

"Thanks."

He let go, and took a deep breath as she looked up at him. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and before much longer her time for childish play would be over. The only reason he'd gotten away with playing until he was eighteen, was because she was so much younger than him and he'd ended up supervising her and the other village children while working to collect wood each day to stockpile for winter. She didn't have that, and once she reached sixteen, chances were their parents would find a husband for her.

Emily seemed to read the thoughts in his mind, and took hold of his hand.

"Don't worry about it, Jack. Just think of this way. When I marry, and have children, I'll get to teach them all about you. All about their Uncle Jack, who will come and play with them every winter." A call sounded from the village, and she turned when she realised it was their mother. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, Jack."

He watched her go, but didn't move away from the tree even when night started to fall. He couldn't help the doubts in his heart, or the fear of her no longer being able to see or hear him. Losing Claire and Mary had hurt, he'd felt the folorn snap of their belief fading away while he'd been tending Southern Winter. He didn't want to think what it would feel like if he ever felt Emily's belief in him, break.

He shook himself from his thoughts and flew to the pond, where he sat on the rocky ledge above the far side of it and gazed up at the clouded sky. When the children came the following day, he showed no sign of his depressed thoughts from the previous night. He pushed them aside, letting the childrens' laughter and Emily's smiles ease his heart.

The first two weeks of winter passed in that way, with the children occupying his days, and his thoughts occupying the nights. Every evening found him sitting on the rocks as the sun set over the village, and that was where Mother Nature found him.

He sensed her almost immediately, his gaze flicking to where she stood in the shadows at the edge of the pond, and he frowned.

"What is it?"

Mother Nature remained where she was, this being the first time she'd spoken to him since the night he'd been reborn as the Spirit of Winter. When she had said they would not speak again until time and task required it.

Her voice was soft, but solemn.

"You've done your duties most acceptably these first few years, and learnt fast and well the lessons taught to you by the winds." She glanced at the village. "You've even succeeded in gaining a firm foundation of believers, which is a remarkable feat for having only been what you now are for six years."

Jack flew down from his perch, and landed in front of her.

"But you're not here to compliment me... You're here to order a storm, aren't you?"

Mother Nature regarded him for a long moment, and nodded.

"You are perceptive, and that is good, but I must inform you that it no single storm I am here to command. I left things be because you are new, but this can wait no longer... This region, and all of the eastern and northern territories of America, are due a hard winter. There must be regular blizzards, and lesser snowfall for the rest of the time. You may grant a few clear days, but not until the arrival of spring starts to near." Her voice dropped to a warning murmur. "You cannot go easy on them. Do not make me step in and cause them greater hardship."

Jack stared at her, wide-eyed and unable to breath around the pounding of his heart, before he choked and started to shake his head in denial. But Mother Nature's gaze did not waver or leave his, until the moment that reality sank in and his bowed his head in defeat.

"I will do as you command, Mother Nature."

She nodded once and vanished without further word, leaving him alone upon the ice of the pond.

The following morning, when the children had finished their chores, Jack waited for them at the village edge. His solemn expression brought their exited rush to an uneasy halt, and he waved them to gather before him before he spoke as gently as he could.

"I need to tell you something... Mother Nature says that this winter has to be a harsh one, and I have to do what she says. I'm going to hold back the weather for five days, so I need you need to tell your parents and everyone else that they need to collect as much extra wood as they can in that time. I'll make sure you get a few days when you can come out and play with me, but the rest of winter you're going to have to stay inside."

One of children, Albert, frowned.

"You're going to make it storm, lots, aren't you."

Jack looked at him, at this boy verging on adulthood whose belief already began to waver, and nodded.

"I have no choice. I am the Spirit of Winter, and must obey Mother Nature's commands. If I do not, then she will bring the bad winter herself, and it would far harsher than it will be should I bring it." He looked to the younger children, who now had fear in their eyes. "But remember... when the wind howls at the windows, it's not because I'm angry. When the days are dark and gloomy, it's not because I'm unhappy with you. But if you listen carefully each night, to the wind, you might hear the Song of Winter. And when you do, I want you to join in the game and sing songs along with my wind, ok?"

The children all nodded. They feared the harsh winter, but they also trusted him to keep them safe.

Jack gave them a nudge to send them back to the village, and watched until only Emily remained at his side. She then took hold of his hand.

"Are you ok, Jack?"

He glanced at her, and let out a shuddering sigh.

"I don't want to make the winter hard, but if I don't then Mother Nature really will do it on her own, and that would make it worse." He frowned unhappily, then forced himself to become composed. "You know the wooden pole in the middle of the village, that they hang the storm lantern from?"

Emily nodded.

"Yes."

Jack turned to face her, his expression serious.

"A few hours before I start the storm, I'm going to hang ice from the top of it. From now on, whenever I have to bring a storm to the village, I'll do that so everyone knows to secure their homes against the cold and the wind. I need you to tell them that, ok? Tell them that the Spirit of Winter will warn them when storms are about to start."

He gently pushed her, sending her towards their parents cabin, and flew up into the sky before she could say another word. He began gathering the clouds that he needs for this, letting the force in them build slowly, setting a strong foundation in them that will sustain the first blizzard for several days and nights. He took his time, knowing he had five days, and knowing that Mother Nature wouldn't object to him doing this in stages.

For the weather is not something that can change in an instant, and he could not start a snowfall if there weren't already clouds in the sky. She would not object to him building this piece-by-piece.

He returned to the village on the third day to find confused adults, and children who scrambled about to and from the woods with fallen branches to pile them alongside the woodstacks behind their homes. The grown-ups were uncertain what to make of all the children doing this, and the youngsters' insistence that a bad winter was coming because the Spirit of Winter said so. By now some of the children's fathers joined them in the task of gathering additional wood, deciding it couldn't hurt to be prepared just in case, taking their axes out into the forest to where some of the coppiced trees still had branches that could be cut and collected.

Jack nodded to himself in approval, and left again to continue building the snow-clouds. He returned late on the fifth day, just as the sky was starting to darken, and found the children skattered about the central square waiting. He landed on the top of the lantern-pole, waited until they'd spotted him, and then whacked his staff against it.

Ice immediately formed beneath his feet, stretching down the pole in long icicles like reaching fingers. He took them fully halfway down the post, before he looked to the children again.

"Get everyone inside, close and latch the doors, and don't come out until the storm stops."

He leapt from the post and disappeared up into the skies, as the children started shouting and pointing to the ice on the post... The very sign that Emily had spent five days warning the villagers to watch for.

The response was fearful, but swift, and everyone rushed to secure shutters and doors and bring armfuls of wood into their homes from the stacks behind them. Within an hour the sky started to darken and snow began to fall. The wind then picked up, pelting that snow against the sides of the cluster of cabins.

But when the darkness started to close in, when the wind howled, the children huddled in their homes heard the wind singing a faint song. A song about ice-houses in the trees, skating on the pond, and snowball fights in the woods. It was a cheerful song, full of laughter that whispered on the edge of memory, until one-by-one the children broke the dread silence within each of their homes. By singing the childish rhymes and skipping songs, that all children in the village knew.

High above, up in the clouds, the wind carried those songs to Jack and he smiled. The children weren't afraid of the storm, they'd embraced the Game of Songs that he'd made for them. He continued on with his work, far above the land below, lost amongst the blizzard. So he didn't see the streamers of golden sand, seeking out children who would need sweet dreams to ward off the fear of winter. And he certainly didn't see the surprised expression of a little golden man on a cloud of sand, when his sand found the children of one village sound asleep and smiling. In that one small settlement, there was no fear this night.

~(-)~

After the first blizzard, Jack cut the weather back to a constant, but relatively gentle snowfall. The snow on the ground was deep, it was going to stay that way, and it was going to make things hard for the people in the village.

But the children kept their spirits up, and played around the storm pole on the handful of days when the snow wasn't falling. Jack always joined them for that, gladdened to see them so cheerful despite the hardship he was inflicting on them. It eased the guilt he felt, and made him feel proud that, despite having no choice about the harsh winter, he'd succeeded in creating this balance between his formal duties and his own wishes.

He played with the children until dusk on one of those clear days, before landing on the post in the village centre and putting a new layer icicles on it having broken the old ones off after the end of that first storm. The adults in the village turned to look when they heard the ice forming, and he saw their eyes widen. The children nearby then relayed that 'Jack Frost' said a new blizzard was coming, but that it wasn't going to be as bad as the first one.

This time the adults didn't hesitate to listen, not when the children had been right about that first, terrible storm. They didn't understand how it was possible, or why some strange spirit was giving them the warnings, but they weren't fool enough to ignore them.

Jack stayed at the village this time, for this storm didn't need him to dedicate his attention to it, and so this time he saw the sand come.

He frowned as he watched it come down in streamers from the sky, curious. It wasn't the first time he'd spotted the stuff, but it was the first time he'd seen where it went. And as he watched, and peered through tiny cracks in the shutters, he saw the stand enter some of the homes and stop above the children in each. Once there, the children sighed and smiled in their sleep, as the sand became an image above their heads. Each image was different, in some of them he could make out a tall figure with a staff taking part in a snowball fight with the child, as their wishes and memories shaped the sand into the dream they most wanted. For that's what he realised they were, and he rememberd a story from his childhood.

The Sandman, the bringer of good dreams. It was something that almost all children believed in, and he began to wonder now just how many of those childhood stories and beliefs were about figures that really existed... Legend Immortals.

Jack looked up at the trails of sand, and considered following them to their source, but decided against it. During the previous three Southern Winters, he'd gone exploring around the world trying to find others like himself who might be open to friendship... All he'd succeeded in finding was the Summer Sanctuary, a very irate Spirit of Summer and her associates, and several more lesser Legend Immortals who zealously guarded their little patches of belief. Those had been almost as bad as Achieng, and in some ways they'd been worse. If the Nature Immortals held disdain for those who needed to work for the belief of humans in order to have power, so the Legend Immortals held disdain for those who basically had their power handed to them for no effort at all. The Sandman was likely very powerful among the Legends, given how well-known he was in stories, and may not be so territorial. But even so Jack didn't feel like chancing an unpleasant encounter with him.

The weeks ticked by, becoming one month, then two, and in the village things were still hard but the children kept singing and playing. But just as things were hard for the humans, so were things even worse for the local wildlife. Food was becoming scarce for predators, and a wolfpack had been drawn in by the presence of the village, their hunger warring with instinctual fear of people. Jack monitored their presence uneasily, but they only came near the village at night when everyone was safe in their houses. But then when he brought a bright, clear day, with the village running low on certain items of food, the village hunters were not about to pass up the chance.

Jack landed inside the village, having intended to play with the children, but instead he frowned at the preparing hunters and walked to where Emily stood on the porch of her home.

"What are they doing? There's a massive wolfpack out there! Didn't they get the message I gave to the children last week?"

Emily glanced at him, her eyes full of worry as she then looked to where their father was checking his hunting bow while another man checked his rifle.

"We told them, we even reminded them this morning, but the village needs the meat, and the furs and hides to trade when we send the wagon to the big town in spring. The constant snow has meant all we've been catching is rabbits. We need the larger game." She put her hand on Jack's arm. "Please protect them. I know they can't see you, but still... Please, make sure Father and the others come back safely."

Jack went quiet, and then he nodded solemnly.

"I'll make sure they come home."

When the hunting party set out towing a sled, Jack followed them, keeping a discrete distance even though they couldn't see him. But at the same time he wanted to curse, because he already knew that most of the deer in the valley had already fled from the wolves and gone much further up the river than the village's typical hunting range. Another large pack of wolves guarded that territory fiercely, leaving the pack near the village to struggle and starve. He knew this trip was a waste of time, and he knew that those wolves would find the trail leading away from the village come nightfall.

When his father and the hunters picked a clearing and set up to camp for the night, Jack felt like he could have screamed at them for their stupidity. Instead he began to agitatedly circle the camp, flitting between it and the trail leading back to the village. It was nearing midnight when he spotted the wolves heading in the hunters' direction, and he dashed back to the camp and landed beside the man keeping watch.

" _They're coming! Get the others out of the tent and climb a tree!_ " He was practically screaming in the man's face, but the hunter remained oblivious as the Spirit of Winter began to curse. "Damn it!"

Jack began to look around frantically at how poorly defendable the camp was in its small clearing surrounded by trees. The wolves would have more than enough cover to pick the men off from behind while others circled at the front. In the end he did the only thing he could think of, and started to throw snowballs at the watchman and the tent.

He almost whooped in success when it has the desired effect, with the men woken to scramble out with guns, knives, and bows at the ready, but he didn't let elation distract him. Jack now rattled the surrounding trees, doing everything he could possibly do to make his father and the others nervous and watchful, even if he was also terrifying them in the process... But it meant they were ready, when the first wolf came into view and was echoed by the hunting cry of its fellows.

The hunters huddled together near their fire, and the wolves began to circle the camp. Both ignored Jack, for one group could not see him, and the other saw him as a part of the natural surroundings and nothing to be concerned with. The first gunshots make the wolves scatter for a few moments, but did not drive them away as Jack had hoped. The wolves were starving, and here before them was prey. They were not going abandon this chance for a meal.

By now Jack realised the hunters were in serious trouble. The pack was a merger of three smaller ones, and totalled around twenty wolves. Five men couldn't hope to hold them off once they decided to charge at them.

The first wolf made its move and was shot dead. A second one darted towards the men, and was wounded. But the villagers were poor, their ammo was limited, and Jack saw it in their eyes the moment they knew they couldn't win... They were going to die, and there was no escape.

After several more tense moments, half of the pack charged into the firelight and towards the hunters. In that instant Jack thought on his promise to Emily and his expression hardened. He slammed down out of the air, a gale of wind flinging away the wolves on one side, before he attacked those on the other side with a blast of ice.

For the hunters, all descended into a maelstrom of whirling snow, that hid everything beyond the heart of their circle of firelight... But they could still hear. They heard the snarls, yelps, and cries of the wolves. They heard the roar and shatter of wind and ice... And then the wind dropped, the snow settled, and the air cleared... And around them was a scene beyond all comprehension.

In a ring around their camp, sprays of jagged ice-spears were scattered all pointing outwards. Many had wolves impaled on them, several other wolves lay at the edge of the firelight and had been frozen solid. Whatever survivors there were of the pack, they had fled from this fury of winter.

The men then saw the wind carve a shallow circle in the snow around the camp, and then a line pointing back towards the village, and the meaning was clear. Whatever it was that had defended the wolves, be it the Spirit of Winter or not, it wanted them to head home.

They gathered up the carcases of the wolves, unwilling to waste the meat and fur, and headed back under Jack's watchful yet unseen gaze.

The story of that night became a village legend, after the hunters returned to tell tale of how winter itself had seemed to protect them from the wolves. Any doubts as to the existence of the Spirit of Winter, that the children had spoken of for six years, were now gone. But it remained that it was only the children who could see Jack, for even if the adults believed he was there, they lacked the innocence to perceive him.

More years passed after that harsh winter, and Jack came home as he always did to the joy and laughter of the children. But then, the ninth winter after he'd died and become Jack Frost, he returned to find Emily no longer lived in the house of his parents.

She was in a different house now... with her _husband_.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: There you have it. If you're wondering how old Emily is at the end of this, she's seventeen. She was eight when Jack became the Spirit of Winter, and it's been nine years :)


	8. A Family Tie is Made

Alaia Skyhawk: Major plot reveal in this one, sort of. Hehehe, you guys are going to like it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 8: A Family Tie is Made

Jack peered through the gap in the shutters, choking on the spear of terror that ran through him. He'd watched as the rest of those first seven children to believe in Jack Frost, had grown up and forgotten him. Emily was the last of the original group, and he couldn't help the fear that this change in her life had made her forget him as well. For none of the rest of those youngsters had believed past the age of fourteen, and Emily was now seventeen.

His denial set the wind rattling the shutters, causing Emily to turn and open one slightly to look out into the dusk light. She saw that it had started to snow, the first snow of winter, before she closed it again and turned to her husband.

"Albert, I'm just going outside to bring some more wood in. It looks like it's going to be a cold night tonight. It's snowing."

Albert glanced at her from where he worked on mending a plough harness, and nodded.

"Be careful you don't slip. We don't want you hurting yourself."

Emily smiled softly at that, and headed out the door. She then walked around to the back of the cabin, and called out quietly.

"Jack?"

With a rush of relief, Jack swooped down to land in front of her before hugging her tight. Clinging to her, almost.

"I.. I thought for a moment that..."

Emily held him comfortingly, as if she were the elder of the two of them and not the other way around.

"Don't worry, I could _never_ forget my brother. I could _never_ stop believing in you, and I'm going to make sure my child will never forget you either. All my children, and grandchildren. On and on, through every generation from now on. Your family will never forget you."

Jack stared at her in dawning realisation.

"Emily, you're?"

She smiled, and put a hand to a stomach which was just beginning to round.

"Going to be a mother. The child will be born in late spring, if you think you can stay that long."

Jack's fear had turned to elation, and he looked as eager as a child.

"I'll stay even if it means Ariko yelling at me! So long as I don't leave later than one week before Southern Winter is due, there won't be a problem." He glanced towards the house. "On another matter... You married _Albert?_ "

Emily put her hands on her hips.

"Albert Bennett is an upstanding member of this village, and the brother of my best friend. Why shouldn't I marry him?"

Jack raised an eyebrow in mirth.

"Because he's a bit stiff? Any stiffer, and people will think he walks around with a broom-handle up his-"

"Jack!"

At Emily's reprimand, Jack's expression became the picture of innocence as he twirled his staff in one hand. He then glanced at her, grinning unrepentantly until she too began to smile at his teasing.

"Emily, are you all right?"

The moment was broken by Albert's concerned call, and Emily frowned.

"I'll be right there." She turned to Jack, sighing. "I should go back inside."

Jack reached for her shoulder, making her pause before she could head to the woodpile.

"Wait, I... I know he's stopped believing, but he used to. You're proof that an adult can believe in me, so maybe, just maybe, we can help him remember." His expression became pleading. "If he remembers, then I won't have to hide my visits to you. I can visit you both, and your child once they're born."

Emily looked at him, uncertain, and then took a deep breath before calling out.

"Albert, will you come here?"

Albert came around the house, frowning when he saw her standing amid the falling snow.

"What is it?"

Emily went to him, and held him by the arm as she led him towards where Jack stood.

"You know the village legend, about the spirit that protects us, Jack Frost?" Albert nodded, and she continued. "Do you remember the day I introduced you to him? By the pond, when he jumped through the trees shaking the snow loose. Unseen because you didn't believe in him."

Albert's frown deepened.

"We were children then. It was just a game, a child's imagination."

Emily was earnest.

"Albert, I know you love me, and that love started before we gave up our 'childish imagination'. If that love can carry forward, then so can belief."

"Emily, neither you nor I are children anymore." His tone was firm, and faintly disapproving. "Accept reality, that whatever spirit may watch over us, it is not one that we can see. Look at the world with clear eyes, Emily. Not ones that are clouded by foolish imaginings."

Emily let go of his arm and stepped back from him, hurt. Her expression then became determined, as she raised her head high.

"It is _children_ who truly see the world as it is. It is _children_ who know and accept the true reality." She regarded him with what could almost be described as pity. "It is children who look at the world with unbiased eyes. Eyes that have not been clouded by the expectations of others, and that which is considered 'acceptable' for adults to believe in or not. Who is it that passes on the Spirit of Winter's warnings, about storms or bears or wolves? It is the children of this village, and you were one of them once. You cannot tell me that you do not remember the times you spent with Jack Frost."

Albert continued to frown at her, puzzled.

"Why are you telling me this? Why ask this now?"

She took hold of his hands again.

"Because Jack Frost is here, with us. I can see him, but you cannot, and I want to change that. I want you to remember. I want you to believe in him again. Forget your doubts as an adult, and for this one thing, embrace the memories of the child you were."

Albert remained silent for several moments, and then tugged his hand free from hers.

"Emily, if or not he is really here, is not for you to concern yourself with. You need to get back inside, into the warm, and stop with this childi-"

His words were cut off by a snowball slamming into his face, and Emily spun round to face her brother.

" _Jack!_ "

Jack shrugged, leaning on his staff casually.

"What? It worked the first time around." He smiled. "And besides, what better way to revive the memories of childhood, than to gift to him the very essence of childhood fun? No one who has been hit by one of my _special_ snowballs, ever fails to start smiling at the very least."

"But..."

Emily turned back to Albert, who was wiping the snow away from his face while a faint trace of glittering blue lingered for a moment after the snow was gone. He then shook his head as if disorientated, and opened his eyes.

Jack looked at him, still smiling.

"Can you hear me now, Albert? If so, do you recognise my voice? You should. I played with you for six winters, until you stopped believing and stopped playing with the other children who still see me."

Albert stiffened, turning slowly to face the figure a few steps away. His eyes then widened in wonder and recognition.

"...Jack Frost."

Jack's smile widened, and he walked over even as Emily looked as though she could scarcely believe the snowball had worked.

"It's been a while, Albert... You wanted to know why Emily was asking you, it's because I asked her to try help you remember. I didn't want her to have to hide my visits from you. I wanted to be able to visit my sister, and my niece or nephew who will born in spring, openly."

Albert looked between the two of them, his gaze eventually settling on Emily.

"The Spirit of Winter is your brother?"

Jack gave them both a nudge, and pointed at their cabin.

"Maybe we should finish this conversation inside, in case one of the neighbours comes out and notices you two out here apparently talking to nothing."

Albert frowned at him for the way he was practically ordering them into the house, but relented all the same. They headed inside, where Jack then retreated to the corner furthest from the fire. Albert frowned again at that, when he sat down by the hearth.

"Are you trying to avoid me?"

Jack gave him a flat look, and didn't move from where he leaned against the wall beside one of the shuttered windows.

"No, it's just that when I get too close to a source of great heat, my powers protect me by cooling the air around me. I didn't think you'd appreciate it, if my powers put out your fire and froze the wood."

The two men continued to stare at each other, until Emily moved a chair to a point exactly halfway along the wall between them. She then glanced at them both, and huffed in exasperation.

"Jack, will you kindly stop goading my husband? Albert, will you kindly stop glaring at my brother?" She folded her arms across her chest, as she pinned Albert with a stern look. "Do you have a problem with Jack continuing to be a part of this family? I know that his relation to us will have to remain a secret, but that won't be a problem. Other than the village children, only the two of us can see him. To everyone else, he is a local legend that is becoming part of this village's traditions. The spirit that protects the children when they are in the woods, and warns of winter blizzards by hanging ice down the pole in the village square."

Albert looked at her, then at Jack, and it seemed at last that the truth was starting to sink in.

"He really is your brother?"

Emily nodded, as did Jack when he answered that question for her.

"I am... I died that day nine years ago, at the pond, because I put myself in harm's way to save Emily from falling through the ice. Instead I was the one to fall, and my self-sacrifice didn't go unnoticed. I was chosen because of it, and was reborn as the Spirit of Winter. Of course, Emily told you and the other children that I was her brother, that first winter after I died. But then all of you forgot who I once was, until only she remembered."

Emily's expression became saddened.

"Jackson Overland has been mostly forgotten, and only stories of Jack Frost remain. Even our parents don't speak of him much now."

Jack sighed, and looked to Albert in entreaty.

"But I'm still here, and I don't want to be forgotten. Please, all I ask is that, even if it's just you and this family, don't forget me. Let me be a part of this family, because in my lonely life as the Spirit of Winter, where the belief of children is but a passing thing, this family is all that I have."

Albert pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure of what to say. But then he saw his wife's pleading gaze, and let out a sigh and started to smile.

"If this village is going to have the Spirit of Winter as its protector, then there has to be someone who makes sure that no one forgets who brings the warnings of bad blizzards, and who protects the children when they're in the woods in winter. I guess that can be us."

Emily started to smile as well, in joy.

"We could start a tradition! A festival, to greet the arrival of winter when the first snows fall upon the village each year. To welcome the spirit, Jack Frost, back to his home, and ask that he watch over us until spring."

Albert looked like he was honestly considering it, while in his corner Jack stared and started to babble.

"Now wait a second! I'm one of the Spirits of the Seasons, not a Legend Immortal! I definitely don't need a yearly _festival_ in my honour!"

Emily grinned at him. The very grin he wore when he got one of his mischievous ideas.

"Are you afraid of what Ariko of Spring, Achieng of Summer, and Oisin of Autumn will think?"

Jack crossed his arms and hunched in his corner, shaking his head in emphatic denial.

"No, I'm more concerned about what Mother Nature will think."

Emily stood up, her hands on her hips.

"Well I don't _care_ what she thinks! This village is your home, no matter what she says, and she has no say on what _I_ do. And I am going to start that tradition, tomorrow!"

She turned to add another log to the fire, her expression saying more clearly than words that she wasn't going to back down from this.

Jack glanced at Albert and raised his eyebrows, before his brother-in-law raised his as well in resignation and defeat. When it came down to Emily getting her own way, they were as powerless as each other to stop her.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep! I'm going with the idea of Jamie Bennett actually being related to Jack. 1: It's just too cute a chance to pass up. 2: I am going to have SO MUCH FUN when I get as far as Jamie being born etc. Jack, after all, would be the best uncle ever!


	9. A Tradition Founded

Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, lots of people liked the "Jack is related to Jamie" thing, and also Emily bossing both Jack and Albert around. Well, she's still going to be getting her way in this chapter too :)

Also, on a small side note, I'm going to explain why getting Albert to believe in Jack again, worked. 1: Because he used to believe in Jack. 2: Because Emily had a strong tie to him, he was more inclined to believe her words even if he was stubbornly sceptical. 3: The snowball definitely helped.

The trick wouldn't work with anyone who didn't know Jack as a child, unless that person is naturally more open to believing anyway. Such as someone with a strong love of stories about myths, legends, and folklore :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 9: A Tradition Founded

It was with some disorientation that Jack woke the following morning, roused from his sleep by the firm nudge of a foot to his ribs. He opened his eyes to find himself _inside_ a cabin, which he'd never been since he'd died, and then his view was dominated by the skirt of the woman who was nudging him awake.

Emily looked down at Jack where he'd dozed off on the floor, speaking as he in turn looked up at her.

"It's dawn. Now come on, we have things to gather."

Jack got up off the floor, and took hold of his staff from where he'd propped it in the corner. At the other end of the room, Albert was in a similar state of drowsy confusion.

"Collect what?"

Emily threw on her shawl and opened the front door.

"Things to make a garland with, silly. Now come help me pick what you want to be used to represent your festival."

"Eh?"

Jack stared at her as she went out the door, before he hastened to follow upon her leaving it open and making it clear she wasn't going to close it herself.

Outside the house, in the pale light, no one else was moving about yet. Only Emily left her footprints in the thin covering of fresh snow, as she walked into the woods until she found a patch of climbing ivy. She then began to cut off a few trailing lengths from it, before turning to her brother.

"I thought ivy would make a good base for the garland, since there's so much of it around and it's a lovely dark red at this time. What else should we weave in with it?"

She actually prodded him in the chest as she asked that, and Jack awkwardly took a step back before looking about at their surroundings.

"Umm." His eyes spotted a patch of what had been nicknamed 'Christmas Fern', because it stayed green all through the winter, and he pointed to it. "What about those? They hold the frost well, and will look good against the red."

Emily darted over to the plants, and grabbed several of the stems before grinning at him.

"Right. What else?"

Jack hesitated, still uncertain if or not this would get him into trouble. But then Emily looked so happy, and was having so much _fun_. He couldn't refuse.

He mulled it over.

"Something with berries on it, but not holly. I don't want anything with sharp edges or thorns."

Emily's smile widened, and she dashed away through the trees.

"I know! Winterberries!"

Jack glided after her, feeling his heart lighten at the sound of her joyful laughter. He watched as she gathered the clusters of berries on their woody stems, before the two of them headed back to the cabin and sat on the porch.

He held down the end of the forming garland, as Emily braided the ivy into a length as long as her forearm. He then watched as she threaded the ferns into the back so they framed the dark-red of the ivy, and then she began to thread the sprigs of berries into the front.

Most of the villagers were up and about by the time she finished, so they heard her call Albert outside, and they saw the two of them tie the garland to one of the porch supports. Several villagers looked confused, but it was Claire who came over to see what her brother and his wife were doing.

"What's that for?"

Emily smiled at her, even as she passed a spare sprig of berries to Albert.

"The first snow was yesterday, so I'm welcoming the spirit, Jack Frost, back to his woods around this village." She walked over to the storm-pole, Albert at her side, and at her prompting both of them set their sprig of berries at the foot of the post. Emily then set her hand to the wood. "Spirit of Winter, watch over us until spring. Warn us when the bad storms come, and grant us your protection" She put her hands to her belly. "I want my child to be safe."

Claire watched the whole scene with uncertainty, but at Emily's prayer and mention of her unborn child, the woman seemed to come to a decision.

She hastened over to her own cabin, and immediately asked her husband to go out and gather the same things Emily had used for her garland. A couple of other mothers copied her, and by mid-morning most of the houses in the village had a garland tied to the porch. There was also a pile of winterberry sprigs at the base of the pole.

Jack watched it happen with both bemusement and a sense of awe, for while the half-true belief of the adults didn't give him power, their acknowledgement of him still sent a strange tingle up his spine with every uttered prayer.

Was this how all the Legend Immortals started out, the ones that had festivals? With a single believer getting the idea to celebrate their existence or that which they represented?

He sat perched atop the pole, looking down at the people leaving their sprigs beneath him, and noticed the children that had gathered to do the same. They giggled among each other, some pointing at him furtively, and he waited until the adults all had their backs turned before he jumped down to spiral frost around the base and up the pole above the tributes after the children set down theirs.

The children all looked so happy as they cheered his display, and the adults reacted with awe when the children's laughter drew their attention to the newly-formed frost.

From her porch, Emily watched and murmured quietly. Yet her voice was loud enough for the nearby villagers to hear.

"I think we've pleased Jack Frost. We've made him happy."

Jack smiled at her from atop his pole, and remained there as a watcher until the sun set. He then went back to his pond to wait for morning, and dwell on the day's events. The winds hadn't found any avalanche sites today.

He was perched atop his staff in the centre of the pond, beneath a clear night-sky, when a familiar voice jolted him from his thoughts.

"Your peers aren't going to be too pleased about this, although I can guess that you do not care."

Jack glanced over his shoulder, to where Mother Nature stood in the shadows.

"You know I'll never be content with the isolated life that they live. But you chose them because you _knew_ they'd be happy working on their own, with only a handful of lesser seasonal spirits to keep them company. But you didn't choose me..."

Mother Nature sighed.

"And already you show yourself to be more the Moon's work than mine, or perhaps, rather you show yourself to be both our work. A bridge between the Nature Immortals and the Legend Immortals, a counterbalance."

Jack turned to face her, still perched on the top of his staff.

"So you're not angry?"

She shook her head with a wry smile.

"Not at all. It was one of the villagers who started the tradition, not you, and it will be they who continue to tell your legend." Her smile faded. "But, by the very circumstance that the tradition is started, to celebrate the protection you give to the village, so will the belief in you not spread beyond it. Others may hear of you outside of this valley, but they will not believe. Your circle of influence will be as limited as any other minor Legend Immortal. Only the Guardians, and a select few of the more powerful Legends, are believed in across the entire world."

Jack frowned.

"Guardians?"

Mother Nature came into the silver light that shone across the pond and the forest, and looked up at the moon overhead.

"The Man in the Moon's chosen ones, the protectors of the world's children. The Sandman, the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa to name the most prominent of them. I'm sure you've heard of those four by those names."

Jack stared.

"Wait, all of them are real?" He blinked. "Wait, what am I saying? Of _course_ they're real! They're Legend Immortals, right? Their power comes from the belief of the children."

" _Lots_ of children." Mother Nature turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "You'll learn more over time, about Sanderson, Toothiana, Bunnymund, and North. You may even meet them someday, although don't expect much attention. They are far busier than any Immortal you have met thus far. North and Bunnymund remain at their homes at all times, rarely leaving for anything but the single day each year that they do their work and reinforce the belief of the world's children. Toothiana never leaves her palace, save when she and the other Guardians are summoned to a meeting at North's workshop at the North Pole. The only one you are likely to meet is Sanderson. You will know when he is nearby, when you see the trails of his golden dreamsand seeking out children in need of good dreams. You must have seen them by now, if you've been paying attention."

Jack frowned at that, and nodded with a hint of annoyance.

"I've seen them."

Mother Nature smiled.

"Then seek him out, if you are curious, for of all the Guardians, he will quiet happily converse with you. But do not expect to hear much... He doesn't speak, just in case that by doing so, he wakes a child from their dreams."

She vanished, leaving Jack alone with whatever thoughts her words had triggered. And after mulling over them for a while, he did make a decision. It was then, with the coming of dawn, that he went to speak with his sister.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Just another bit of info. Should I eventually work in details from the books, I'm changing when those books were set. Namely, instead of them happening about 200 years before the film, they happen 400 years before. So in my time-line, that means North has been 'Santa' for around about 110 years by this point, and is of course the youngest of the Guardians. In my time-line, Bunny has also been a Guardian for about 350-400 years at this point. If I work in book info, my tweak to the plot of the book about him, will be that he's already a Guardian when those events happen. I can't really pin any of this down yet, until I've read the books, but I'll go into more details later if I start to work that information in after I have :)

Also, about Emily starting that tradition... never underestimate a mother's determination to protect her children in any way. The moment Emily roped the village women into praying for the safety of their children, there was no way the idea wasn't going to spread to the entire village hehehe.


	10. Seeking Sanderson

Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, SANDY! Yep, Jack is going to meet him in this chapter. But before we get to that, I just want to say in forewarning that I do a bit of bashing of religion in general in this chapter, but most specifically I poke holes in Christianity. This is by no means intended to be offensive (I am, after all, technically a Christian myself even if I don't go to church anymore). I just look at religion from Jack's present perspective, in his position as an immortal Spirit of Winter. After all, to him, a lot of what he once believed would definitely no longer make sense.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 10: Seeking Sanderson

"So you'll be back in a few days?"

Emily stood on the porch in the pale dawn light, as Jack paused and glanced back at her. He'd waited until she'd woken just before dawn, before knocking on the door to talk to her. And now she'd come outside, and he'd explained he was going to go look for someone.

He smiled at her, knowing that she worried about him even though she knew he could take care of himself. But then, she was his little sister, and she would always care.

"Mother Nature suggested I go introduce myself to the Sandman, but I'm not sure how long it will take me to track him down. It shouldn't be too hard, he leaves trails of dreamsand right across the sky when he's sending out dreams, but I don't want to have to rush my first talk with him either. If he's ok with it, I'll probably follow him around and watch him for a couple of days. I'll see you when I get back."

He waved to her once, and then soared upwards leaving a faint scatter of snowflakes in his wake. He then turned eastwards and headed across the Atlantic, streaking through the thin air far far above the clouds, where the boost he got from the winds at lower altitudes let him fly impossibly fast at this height where no normal winds could reach. It was also incredibly cold up so high, which was why he was the only Spirit of the Seasons to be able to take advantage of it.

Even at their best speeds, Ariko and the other two would have taken over an hour to cover the distance that Jack traversed in just fifteen minutes. Even with their power protecting them from the cold, the utter chill that high up was too much for them to handle. But for Jack, that cold increased his speed as if he were sliding on ice that had just been slicked with water. As for how he knew all this? Well it was simple to say that, when he'd stumbled across the Summer Sanctuary, Achieng had chased him. He'd flown straight upwards, aiming for the upper airways where he knew he was his fastest, and the moment he passed the highest altitude she could tolerate, the look of shock on her face had been priceless. She'd just stopped in her tracks as if at some invisible wall, while he'd kept going upwards. Then, in fury as he'd jokingly teased her about being afraid of heights, the dark-skinned spirit had charged pass that 'wall' with the obvious intent to slap him.

She got halfway between where she'd been and the altitude he'd stopped at, when ice started forming on her array of dark braids, and the instant that happened she reversed direction and plummeted downwards until she was low enough that it melted again. She'd then scowled, complained that he wasn't worth knocking some sense into since he was obviously too young and stupid at this point to learn from it, and stormed off back to her sanctuary. But Jack knew the real reason she'd left in such fury, it was because the incident had shown she was weaker than him in that one small but significant way. He could go where the other Spirits of the Seasons could not. The terrible cold at the edge of the world, held no fear for him.

Jack chuckled to himself at that thought, as his fifteen-minute flight ended with him floating above London. He'd tracked her down again the following year, out of courtesy, to apologise for trespassing in the Summer Sanctuary. What he got was a small frown, a firm nod of acceptance for the apology, and a faint look of grudging respect. In return he'd tactfully decided not to tease her about it, as fun as might have been.

He sighed to himself as he landed on the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral, the afternoon sun streaming down, and idly took note of the new statues on the roof. The building had been declared 'complete' on the twenty-fifth of December, seventeen-eleven, eleven days after he'd died and been reborn. But it seemed that it was only now, in the year seventeen-twenty, that they'd truly finished adding things to it. It all seemed a bit silly to him to be honest, to spend so much time and money on a giant church. He'd been raised as a stalwart follower of Christianity, with the prayers and everything else, but the moment he'd died all that had ceased to matter. Because if there really was a god, out there somewhere watching over humanity from afar, they didn't seem to be doing a very good job of guiding and looking after the world from his perspective.

No, it seemed that the Man in the Moon, Mother Nature, and the various immortals were doing all the real work. They toiled away, day after day, year after year, century after century... and 'God' got most of the credit.

Jack snorted to himself, and took to the air again, landing on the nearby buildings before jumping roof-to-roof amid the city's sea of smoking chimney-stacks. He didn't really like London for that reason, all the smoke that fouled the air. The warmth from all those hearth-fires also interfered with his work, forcing him to put more effort into making it snow over the city. It made snowstorms during the day a bit of a chore, but once night fell even the warmth from all those fires couldn't stop the lack of sunlight from sucking the heat from the air. Especially if he cleared the clouds during the day so the heat could escape, and then drag fresh clouds, laden with snow, into place once it got dark.

He began to do that now, out of boredom. Breaking up and thinning out the clouds overhead and chuckling as the temperature then began to plunge. Frost began to form on the tallest spires and roofs as the hours until dusk passed by, and then he swept up into the skies to pull new clouds into place. But even as he revelled in crafting the weather of his season, he did spare a thought for the many homeless and poor people he knew were in the city below.

Winter was a time of terrible hardship for them, and many would die from the cold, but he had reached the point now where he accepted that. He could not change their lot in life, and he could not spare them the cold. He lacked the power or ability to do the first, and could not do the latter without disobeying his duties as the Spirit of Winter. All he could do was offer a feeble and seemingly pointless prayer, to the distant god those poor souls believed in.

The sun soon reached the horizon and passed below, casting the city into shadows at the same time Jack's snowfall started, and numerous clock-towers across London informed all who could hear them that it was four o'clock.

Jack watched the snow fall, sat on a random roof with his feet hanging over the edge. He swung his legs too and fro in boredom, until eventually the bells chimed that it was eight o'clock.

He stopped the snowfall, clearing the air so that he could see across the city. London was big, with lots of people, and that meant lots of children. And in a dank, smelly, and crowded city like this, a lot of those children would need good dreams from the Sandman.

Jack began flitting across the roofs of London, leaving patterns of frost whenever he landed for a brief moment. It was only now he began to feel a flutter of nerves, as he wondered what reaction he would get. Of every immortal he'd met thus far, other than Mother Nature, he'd been greeted with either indifference, disdain, or outright hostility. Even with her assurances that the Sandman would be welcoming, Jack still doubted. But he could not cling to those doubts, because at the moment of the first chime of nine o'clock, long streams of sand streaked and wove across the London skyline. Where they split off into hundreds, _thousands_ of smaller streams, which each in turn sought out a child.

Jack took to the air, asking the winds to lead him to the source of the dreamsand before the brief few minutes they would be there were up. It was chance luck that he was already close, for not that far away a little cloud of dreamsand floated above the River Thames.

Jack shot upwards to just below the clouds, well above the height the cloud was at, and from there he peered down at the little rotund golden man that sat atop it. He then carefully began to drift silently down, coming closer and closer, until he was near enough to make out the fact that the Sandman's hair stuck up in little tufts. He looked mystical and yet friendly, with all his clothing glittering as if made from the very sand he commanded... which was actually more than likely. But his face was definitely human, and below his cheerful golden eyes the little man was smiling.

The Sandman obviously enjoyed his work.

Jack waited until the flow of dreamsand stopped, which was a couple more minutes, but from his high initial vantage point he'd seen the tremendous distances the streams had reached out. The Sandman hadn't just given dreams to London, but probably all of England and a large chunk of France, Germany, and Holland as well. Maybe more... The sheer range of his influence was staggering, even to a Spirit of Winter who could spread his season over the entirety of the north of the world in one pass.

The Sandman seemed to sigh to himself once he was done, and settled deeper into his cloud as if to take a few minutes to think or rest or something before he head off to his next stop, probably Spain if Jack guessed right. After Spain was probably Africa, and then there would be about four hours before night-time reached North and South America. Jack had to admit now to being impressed, because if the Sandman followed night around the world _all_ the time, then the only times he'd have to himself to rest would be when the line of dusk was crossing the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and even then those gaps would be small. Mother Nature had _not_ been jesting when she'd described the Guardian as being 'busy'.

Jack couldn't bring himself to wait any longer, and drifted down to the cloud's height to stop in front of the little golden man. He then smiled awkwardly.

"Um, hello."

The Sandman blinked at him and tilted his head, before a question mark of sand appeared above it. Jack puzzled over that for a moment, until the Sandman pointed at him.

He flushed a bit, embarrassed.

"Oh! Um, sorry. I'm Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter, and you're The Sandman, right? Mother Nature told me about you."

The Sandman nodded eagerly, smiling cheerfully, and then pointed at Jack again before shaking his head and holding a hand to his ear as if listening. Again Jack stared in confusion, until it dawned on him that The Sandman talked entirely using drawings in dreamsand, and _miming_.

"You're saying you've never heard of me?" Sandman nodded, and Jack shrugged. "I'm not surprised. This will be my ninth full winter since I uh... died and came back, and well I uh... just thought I'd say hello."

The Sandman scooted his cloud forward and offered his hand, which Jack reached out and shook tentatively before he was yanked to sit on the cloud beside the Guardian of Dreams. The Sandman then pointed to himself, and above his head began to form letters out of sand.

Jack turned his head on its side, frowning at the letters and trying to remember what each one meant. He'd never learnt to read, at least not all that well. The only books in the village were a couple of zealously treasured bibles, that the children and youths of the village might be allowed to see, but never to touch.

"Ssss... ah... nnn...duh... yuh... Sandyuh?" He blinked. "Ah! Sandy?" The Sandman smiled and nodded. "You like to be called Sandy?"

Sandy's smile widened, and he nodded once more as he took hold of Jack's hand again to repeat his greeting. Jack returned that smile with one just as wide, and any doubts he'd had about being welcomed or not were now completely forgotten.

"I'm happy to meet you too, Sandy. Every other immortal I've met until now has been a complete grump, other than Mother Nature, and I can't say much about what the Man in the Moon is like, since he's only ever spoken to me once on the night I became this. I get the idea that Mother Nature cares about me, in her closed-off and serious way, but she doesn't make much for conversation when she does show up. Her visits are almost always about work."

Sandy chuckled silently, pointed to Jack, then tapped the side of his head and put on a thoughtful expression. He then waited for Jack to interpret it, which took a few moments.

"You want to know what I think about this? My new life and powers?" Sandy nodded, and Jack sighed. "Strange at first, but I'm think I'm just about used to it by now. It has been nine years... But it's lonely, even with the handful of kids I have that believe in me and can see me. I can only go to them during the months that it's winter at the village, and I've already watched a few of them grow up and stop believing." He glanced at the little golden man. "Did you feel like this? When you became The Sandman?"

Sandy's smile faded, his expression became distant, and then he sighed and started to shape an image. He drew a crescent moon, with a ray of moonlight shining down upon an image of himself. He then drew a flower, a tree, a tree without leaves, and a snowflake all connected with a circle. They turned round and round and round, faster and faster until they were a blur, while beside them remained the lone figure of himself. And then the turning of the seasons paused, and a new figure appeared beside him. A woman, covered with feathers, and who had segmented wings. Beside her, Sandy drew a tooth, before setting the turn of seasons back in motion and creating smaller images of lots and lots of new figures of all shapes and sizes while it turned.

Jack stared, at once feeling both pity and sympathy when the meaning of all that seeped into his heart.

"The Man in the Moon made you, and you were the first?" Sandy nodded. "And then you were alone for a very _very_ long time, before he made the Tooth Fairy? And then more and more immortals were made in the years since her." Another nod, and Jack let his shoulders slump. "And I thought _I_ had it bad."

Sandy reached out and patted him on the shoulder, before smiling and shrugging, and Jack got the meaning. All that was in the past, and it didn't matter now.

Jack reached with his own hand to pat Sandy's, his smile soft, and then he glanced around.

"I guess I'd best be going, and let you get back to your work. Do you mind if I watch you for a while?"

Sandy frowned a little, shook his head, and the grip of his small hand on Jack's shoulder became as solid as an anchor to stop the youth from leaving.. Sandy then made an image of the world out of dreamsand, an image of himself on his cloud of sand, and then sent trails of sand from there to places all over the picture of the world.

Jack gaped.

"You can send your dreams to _any_ child from _anywhere_ without moving? But then, why do you fly around the world following the edge of night?"

Sandy pointed out across the city, which was now a sea of lamplight at windows, below rooftops that were dusted with glittering snow. He then smiled, and drew pictures of mountains, and forests, and lakes.

Jack started to smile again.

"You like to see the world, to fly around looking at it, instead of staying cooped up in one place. Can the other Guardians do that as well? Do their work from one place without having to go anywhere?"

Sandy went utterly still, and frowned as several rapid symbols flashed above his head, and Jack flinched.

"Whoa, slow down! Mother Nature told me about the four of you, and that you all protect the world's children." He paused. "But she never said what you protected them from."

Sandman calmed down, his expression solemn, and he drew an image of a wraith-like shadowy being, one that looked like a tortured soul. He then turned his dreamsand a dark grey, dimming its light, giving the impression that the thing he was showing would be black. He then let his sand glow again, and dismissed the image before throwing a touch of golden dust into Jack's eyes. Not enough to put him to sleep, but enough to allow him to communicate a name.

It was one that burned into Jack's mind, as he felt the dread the name invoked.

"Fearling?"

Sandy nodded, then pointed to himself and conjured a whip made of sand, which he brandished.

"You chase them away when you see them?"

Sandy floated up off his cloud, waiting until Jack was also flying before he dismissed it, and then he flew downwards as if looking for something. He drifted from home to home, alley to alley, until eventually he came across a small boy huddled and shivering behind a pile of crates in a back-street.

Sandy threw a touch of dreamsand at the boy, but it refused to settle over him. Instead it circled around the boy, like a forlorn puppy in search of warmth.

The child whimpered in fear, oblivious to everything but the cold and the dark, and Jack dropped to the ground and knelt beside him.

"This is what Fearlings do? They sow nightmares and misery among children?" He turned to Sandy, bleak. "But your dreams ward them away, right?"

Sandy nodded, and drew an image of  two children sleeping. In the first, dreamsand reached the child and the little one slept soundly. In the second, a Fearling touched the child before the dreamsand could arrive, leaving the youth trembling in terror in their sleep, while the dreamsand tried but couldn't help them.

"You can't give dreams to children who are already in the grip of a nightmare? You just have to try and reach the children, who are sad and unhappy enough that the Fearlings are drawn to them, first."

Sandy sighed, looking depressed, and raised his hands in helplessness. He then drew a set of scales, placing himself and his dreamsand on one side, and the image of several Fearlings on the other.

Jack grimaced.

"All part of the balance, eh? All you can do is make sure this boy and others like him, get a good dream tomorrow night. But while you do that, the Fearlings will get to another child instead of him." Jack looked at the boy, frowning even as Sandy waved for him to follow him back up into the sky. "I can't leave him like this, Sandy. He's already cold and alone. It isn't fair to leave him suffering from this nightmare as well."

Sandy remained bleak, and again demonstrated the fact his dreamsand couldn't touch the boy right now, but Jack remained stubborn.

"I know _you_ can't help him, but maybe..."

Jack took a deep breath and raised his empty hand, conjuring a large, crystalline snowflake within his grasp while Sandy watched in puzzlement. He then flicked the snowflake towards the boy, so that it landed on his face and dissolved into blue glimmers there.

The child twitched, a small frown creasing his brow as the glitter of magic disappeared, and then he let out a sigh and relaxed. He was no longer shaking in fear, and there was the faintest smile of happiness on his face.

It was Sandy's turn to gape, before he recovered from his surprise enough to try sending dreamsand at the boy again. This time it wasn't repelled and a dream, about being held close and warm by two loving parents, settled upon the boy.

The child's smile widened slightly, and Sandy drifted down to lay a hand on Spirit of Winter's shoulder.

Jack glanced at him, and shrugged in response to the wide-eyed and questioning expression of his fellow immortal.

"I have the ability to gift a sense of fun and joy to people for a short time, but I've only really used it for starting snowball fights up until now. It's nothing to do with me being the Spirit of Winter, it's just something I have that's from me." He put his hand to his chest. "The day I died, my sister and I were skating on a frozen pond, and the ice started to crack under her. She was so scared, but I turned it into a game. I got her to laugh, and she forgot her fear for long enough to step closer to me so I could save her... I threw her clear of the cracked ice, but couldn't save myself as well." He sighed, and his gaze returned to the sleeping boy. "I just though that, if laughter could banish her fear, then maybe that same joy could drive away the shadow from the Fearling's touch."

Sandy was still staring at him, with something that Jack could only describe as being a mixture of hope, awe, and burgeoning excitement. But before the Guardian of Dreams could ask anything else, the winds came looking for Jack and whispered to him urgently.

He turned to look up at the sky, listening, and then he grimaced and glanced at Sandy.

"Sorry, I have to go. My winter task is avalanche duty, and the winds have just found an avalanche that they say I _really_ need to go deal with... _right_ now." He jumped up into the air, and waved. "I'll see you around sometime, Sandy. It's been great meeting you, and thanks for telling me about those Fearlings. I'll make sure to keep an eye out for them for you."

He disappeared in a gust of wind, leaving Sandy floating there alone in the alley beside the sleeping boy.

The Guardian of Dreams watched Jack go, before sending himself up into the sky upon a cloud of dreamsand. And when he was above the clouds, up within reach of the moonlight, he looked to the moon and asked his silent question. Did he know about Jack Frost, and the remarkable ability the young immortal possessed?

But the Man in the Moon didn't respond. He remained silent, as he always did when it was not yet time to answer.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: lol, this ended up being WAY longer than I planned, partly because I got wrapped up in the history of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the resulting delve into the insight of how an immortal like Jack might view religion given his rather unusual perspective on belief.

But yep, I've also started to delve into the matter of Jack's abilities, and how they relate to the conflict between light and childhood innocence, and the darkness and nightmares of Pitch. (I used an illustration from one of the books, for the description of what the Fearlings look like) Sandy has also realised that Jack is something unusual, special even, but the Man in the Moon isn't going to be answering anything about that any time soon :)


	11. Accidental Misdemeanour

Alaia Skyhawk: Well I said I'd work in stuff from the books, after I'd read them. And after having read the first book in one go before I wrote yesterday's chapter, and chugging through all of book 2 and half of book 3 today, I'm doing just that.

Time to see how Jack ends up on North's "Naughty List" for the first time as Jack Frost :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 11: Accidental Misdemeanour

The winds carried him east and north, over the North Sea, over Sweden, onwards to Russia and then Siberia. That in itself wasn't that odd, as quite a bit of his avalanche duties happened in the many areas of mountains in this part of the world. However, what was surprising, was that when he got close enough to sense the danger-zone of an impending avalanche, the winds seemed to forget where it was.

They circled around for a while, as if they'd lost the trail to the avalanche zone he needed to tend to. At this point Jack started to get a bit impatient with them, for interrupting his talk with Sandy only to keep him hanging around while they found the danger zone that they'd just 'lost'.

So he hung there in the air, still waiting, until the winds suddenly surged beneath him as they relocated the trouble-spot. He was then led to a mountain valley which felt odd to his senses, almost as if it were hiding from the world, and then he saw the 'avalanche zone' the winds had gotten all worked up about.

He stared.

"What the-." He glared at the winds. "How the heck did you lot not find this before now?! That thing has built up so much it could go at any second!"

The winds curled around him apologetically, but Jack had every right to be worked up. Because below the danger-zone, which has at least several years' worth of snow built up on it, was a village.

Jack flew in closer, aware that dawn would be arriving soon, and dawn plus this avalanche could equal _serious_ problems. If he wanted to trigger the thing in a controlled manner, he needed to do it before the sun started warming the surface of the slope.

He examined the snow and the slope, careful not to disturb so much as a single snowflake, and then he flitted towards the village for a look there... and cringed.

The place echoed with masses of magic, not surprising given that the biggest home seemed to be a massive tree, and lots of bits of the other homes looked utterly impossible in terms of normal construction, which made it obvious that it was quite likely the hideaway of an immortal or other powerful being of some kind... Great, now he had to do this avalanche _without_ angering whoever the place belonged to.

Jack frowned, cautiously inspecting the hundred-foot high hedge of thorny vines that formed a barrier around the settlement. Beyond that was a woodland ring of massive oaks, and in both circles he could sense great protective magic and the presence of some form of lesser immortals. Closer inspection of those revealed some sort of woodland spirit, and a massive bear... But none of that would be a defence against the thousands of tonnes of snow teetering on the slope of the mountain above the village. There was enough up there to bury the village as completely as if it had never been there.

As for why his winds hadn't found the build-up of snow, he could now guess. The protective veil that radiated out from the village, had kept the winds from looking too closely at an area which radiated a sense of 'safety'. It was also why they'd had trouble leading him to the spot once they'd told him of it.

He contemplated going down there to deliver a warning of what he was about to do, but decided there wasn't time with dawn barely an hour away. Instead he went back to the slope and started to get to work, creating spires of ice, frozen right down through the snow to the rock beneath, in a series of arrow-shaped snow-breaks between the teetering snow and the village, set to take the snow off to the sides. Once he had three rows of them he then went to the top of the avalanche zone and very, very carefully gave it a small tap with his staff.

The reaction was instant, as a gaping crack appeared in the snow-pack where he'd struck it. He then streaked down the slope ahead of the tumbling snow, and watched as it hit the first snow-break. Some of the snow went to the sides, and the rest passed through as he'd planned, taking part of the force out of the avalanche and slowing it down. The next line of spires slowed it even further, and the last line left only a two-foot layer of snow to tumble to a halt well short of the forest around the village.

Jack grinned at his apparent success, and was all set to congratulate himself on a job well-done, when another sharp snapping crack of shifting snow made him look up the mountain again.

And he stared in horror... for all he'd done with that first tap was take the _top layer_ off! There was still so much more underneath it, and now all of it was heading down the mountainside towards him and the village!

In the village, the faint trembling of the ground and the distant roar of falling snow from the first avalanche, had woken everyone and brought them outside in curiosity. They saw the falling snow being slowed and broken up, and despite the event being unannounced they were quite philosophical about it. In fact the children were very curious about it, eagerly chattering and asking if the avalanche meant Mother Nature was going to stop by and visit like she used to. But curiosity quickly became concern, then fear among the children, when the second and much larger wave of snow started its descent.

Ombric, having come out of Big Root, the great magical oak that served as his home and the heart of the village, watched the scene in surprise that wasn't quite but was still very close to horror. His mind searched his memories, through all manner of possible spells that might save the village, but he knew he simply didn't have the time to react. But then all of them saw a flicker of movement against the advancing snow, and a white-haired figure in a dark cloak, taking the snow from the first avalanche and shaping it upwards into a massive wall.

On the slope, Jack worked frantically, fusing snow and ice together into as solid a structure as he could manage. When the avalanche hit it, the wall shuddered and started to creak under the force even as excess snow was being channelled to either side of where the village was. But then it started to crack, and Jack knew it wouldn't hold.

He darted backwards from it before it could collapse on and bury him, and as the last of the tumbling avalanche broke through, he found himself as the last thing between it and the village below. He summoned up every ounce of his will in that moment, clenching his staff with two hands, and braced himself in mid-air. He didn't have time to make another wall, so _he_ would have to be the wall. Him and his will.

The avalanche hit him, and for a few seconds he honestly believed he could force it around the village. But then as if to add insult to injury, a final yet thankfully small slab of snow-pack broke off the slope above and added its weight to the mass he held back.

Jack yelped as he was overwhelmed and caught up in the tumbling snow, curling around his staff both to protect it and make sure he didn't lose his grip on it. But even then he didn't surrender to the white mass, and instead concentrated on freezing as much of it as possible into clumps that would drag on the ground more and slow down faster.

He knew he hadn't quite succeeded when he hit the first massive tree-trunk, even if when he hit the second, third, fourth, and fifth he was going slower each time. But at least the trees were helping, and really, the remainder of the avalanche which was careening him through the forest, wasn't anywhere near large enough to damage them. The ground would be scoured a bit, but the surface of the soil had been frozen, so barring some unfortunate bushes and shrubs above ground, any seeds below the surface that would be unharmed and still sprout in spring.

Ombric and the villagers watched the snow rushing through the forest towards them, and in fact he'd started to order everyone to get inside Big Root. But then the snow had visibly lost most of its speed, and the front edge of it came to a powdery stop about twenty feet from the edge of the village proper.

A faint curse echoed from that direction, and after gathering at the edge of the the now stilled avalanche, Ombric and the villagers watched in puzzlement as a hand holding a gnarled wooden stick with a curled end, burst up out of the top of the piled snow.

Jack let go of his staff, freeing up his hand to grab at any reasonably firm handhold he could, and managed to drag his head up into the open air. That let him free up his other arm, and with the leverage from both he pulled himself out of his predicament and began to dust himself off.

...And then he saw the old man with his long beard, robes, and staff... and the gathering of what were obviously parents and children... and also realised that every single one of them could see him and the royal _mess_ he'd just made.

Under that regard, he winced.

"Whoops."

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: And the "Whoops" makes its first appearance! ...Right after Jack almost buries Santoff Claussen under an avalanche... Whoops, indeed, heehehehehe!


	12. Santoff Clausen

Alaia Skyhawk: Ok, I'm going to clarify one common error that I've seen in a lot of fics, but which anyone who has read the books will know. Santoff Claussen is _not_ North's Workshop, it's a village in Siberia which was founded by Ombric, the last surviving wizard from Atlantis. Ombric was North's teacher in the arts of magic, so anything that happens to the village, accidental or not, doesn't go down well with him, lol. I'm clearing this up now, since a lot of fanfics keep mistakenly calling North's Workshop by that name and I didn't want people to be confused while reading this fic.

Also, for anyone who had read the books, I'm going to be playing around with the details and circumstances a bit. You'll probably be able to tell what I'm tweaking when you read this chapter :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 12: Santoff Clausen

Jack stood there awkwardly, feeling rather small and certainly not like the great Spirit of Winter that he happened to be. What had started out looking like a perfect piece of avalanche engineering, had now turned into a swathe of enchanted forest gaining a six-foot deep carpet of snow. He also knew he looked a bit of a mess, since he _had_ actually hit six trees, and as if to emphasise that fact he noticed that a large chunk of his woollen cloak was missing. It had been ripped away, probably on one of the trees he'd been 'introduced' to.

That actually upset him, a lot. The cloak was one of his only possessions from his previous life.

Jack buried the hurt he felt at that and used a foot to flip his staff off the snow and up into his grip. He then walked down the packed ridge of snow and stopped once he hit frozen ground in front of the villagers. After that, he winced again and bowed his head in apology to them.

"It wasn't supposed to come down like that. Sorry if I scared anyone."

The old man with the staff approached him, frowning in disapproval.

"Who are you?"

Jack flinched under the man's stare, and then forced himself to straighten up and stand proud. He was, after all, technically a representative of Mother Nature at this moment. He'd already messed up once today, and he didn't need to embarrass himself any further.

"Jack Frost, the Spirit of Winter. The winds only told me about snow build-up on the slope, a couple of hours ago. They didn't find it before now because the magic here distracted them. I'll make sure to come every year in future, and keep it clear so it doesn't get like this again."

The old man raised his eyebrows, while the parents and children behind him began to murmur among themselves.

"You're the Spirit of Winter? So _that's_ why Mother Nature stopped coming to clear the snow. We'd thought it was because she was busy, not that she'd passed the task to another."

There was a pause, and Jack stared at him.

"Wait, she came every year to clear that snow? She knew about this place, and didn't have the _courtesy_ to tell me about it when I was revived as an immortal?" He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation, and muttered under his breath. "Next time I see her, she is going to get a piece of my mind." He floated up into the air a few inches and looked to the man.. "Sorry again for almost burying your village, and waking you all up. I'll go clear this lot, and leave your valley by the end of the day. When I come next year, I'll give you warning before I start work on the slope."

He moved to fly away, but was stopped before taking flight when the old man called out.

"There is no need for haste, young spirit." Jack glanced back, and the man continued. "The snow above us is stable for now, and surely you are tired after that feat. Come, rest a while, and we can talk. You haven't even allowed me to introduce myself." He smiled. "I am Ombric, the last surviving Wizard of Atlantis, and this is the village of Santoff Claussen, the 'place of dreams'. A place where imagination is everything, and it is encouraged above all else."

By now the children had recovered from their surprise, and they rushed over to Jack babbling questions. When they crowded round him, asking him how he became the Spirit of Winter, how he could fly, where did he get his staff, and dozens of other queries, he zipped up into the air before curiosity led to him being prodded as well. He then flicked a snowflake at every child, even as he wondered if they _really_ needed any additional encouragement, and conjures a snowball which he threw at the oldest of the children in front of him.

It hit, and urged on by the essence of laughter and fun, it triggered a snowball fight among the children that silenced the questions and let him escape.

He landed so that Ombric was between him and the children, and glanced at the wizard.

"So, shall we talk before my distraction wears off?"

Ombric chuckled, and indicated Jack should follow him through the door at the foot of the nearby massive tree. Meanwhile the parents had joined in the snowball fight, and theirs and their children's laughter filled the air as dawn lightened the sky.

"The children here are encouraged to ask questions, and to believe that anything is possible. That is why all of us here can see you, even through we had not heard of you before now."

Jack fell into step beside him, curious.

"So none of you are immortals? Why is it I can't sense your belief, then? Doesn't it give power to the immortals like the belief of children elsewhere in the world, does?"

They reached the tree, and started up the steps to the door as Ombric answered. The old man gestured to indicate the village and the forest around it.

"Santoff Claussen is built upon the crater from a meteorite, and so the land here is rich with stardust. I built the village here, as a place of learning, because of that. In time, rumours grew that this place had tremendous treasures and riches, and thieves began seeking it out. I then toiled for centuries, creating the vines and forest around this village, and also our two immortal protectors, the Bear, and the Spirit of the Forest. But none of that would be possible, if not for the belief of those here. Our belief sustains our defences, and our two protectors. Mine also gives me my magic, which has permitted me to live so very many long years. Those are the reasons our belief in you does not grant you strength, because that power is already committed elsewhere."

Jack closed his eyes as he listened to the explanation, and was able to feel that what was said, was true. Santoff Claussen protected those who lived there, and in return those who lived there gave strength to Santoff Claussen.

He smiled.

"I understand, and still... It's nice to know there's somewhere else where children will be able to see me. I have a dozen or so children back at the village I grew up in, who believe in me. I play games with them, and protect them, every winter." He looked at Ombric. "Speaking of which, I really can't stay here too long. I promised my sister I'd only be gone a few days."

The two of them entered the tree, to a tall cylindrical room which sprouted a table and two chairs from the floor. As he indicated Jack should seat himself, Ombric was also regarding him in surprise.

"You have maintained contact with your mortal family?"

Two mugs appeared from nowhere, containing a steaming brown liquid that smelled quite tempting. Jack accepted the one that floated to him, but only after touching a fingertip to the cup to cool the contents down to only mild warmth. Had he grabbed the cup while the drink was still hot, his powers would have reacted and frozen it solid to protect him from being burnt.

He took a tentative sip, then raised his eyebrows in pleasure.

"What is this?"

Ombric took a mouthful from the contents of his own mug before responding.

"Hot chocolate. While it has yet to gain much popularity in the outside world, due to the present forms of the drink being rather bitter, in time it will be one of the most favoured drinks across the world." He tapped a finger on the table. "And, you did not answer my question. Although I shall accept that you were distracted by your beverage, and not that you were avoiding an answer."

Jack smiled wryly at that, and leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, I'm still in contact, although just with my sister and now, her husband. She was my first believer, and she helped me help Albert remember that he once believed in me too before he grew up. I became the Spirit of Winter nine years ago, when Emily was eight. I have Mother Nature's permission, to interact with her and the village in any way I wish."

Ombric nodded.

"I see. So you are really rather new, and yet you seem to have adapted quite readily. Many who are chosen to rise again, take decades to adjust completely. Even North took a while to adjust, after he was brought back from the terrible wound he sustained in the battle against Pitch at the Earth's core. It was indeed quite a surprise to learn about the true Guardians, the Moon's chosen Guardians, for our small group had begun calling ourselves by that name when Aster got all excited upon our return to the Lunar Lamadary. North was dying when we got him there, yet the Man in the Moon used his power to save him. That was when Aster conducted the ceremony, where North took the Guardian Oath in the moments after his rebirth as an Immortal."

Jack was listening intently, putting that information with what he already knew.

"I was speaking to Sandy, The Sandman, before the winds called me here to deal with that avalanche. He told me that he was the first, and was alone for a very long time, before the Man in the Moon created the first new Immortal since him, the Tooth Fairy. And I'm guessing that Aster is Bunnymund, right? He was the third to be sworn in, and North was the fourth?"

The wizard regarded Jack with pleasant surprise.

"Well now, you're really rather bright to figure all that out so quickly. Indeed, E. Aster Bunnymund was sworn to the Guardian Oath by Toothiana, around about four-hundred and fifty years ago. He then worked in total seclusion from then on, sneaking his chocolate eggs to unhappy children using his tunnels from time-to-time. When people began to use eggs as part of the celebration of Easter, well... Aster took one look at the similarity to his own name, and the use of eggs, and snapped up the chance to make it bigger and better by hiding eggs of his own for the children to find on that day each year. He's been doing it every year ever since."

Jack took another gulp of his warm 'hot' chocolate, entranced by the story.

"So how long ago did North take the Guardian Oath? And who's Pitch?"

"North became a Guardian one-hundred and fourteen years ago, and built his workshop to begin his role as 'Santa' in the years after Pitch's defeat. Pitch is the King of Nightmares, and the master of the Fearlings. We fought him in several battles before at last, when all four of the Man in the Moon's Guardians had come together to face him as one, he was cast down and his power shattered to but a feeble shadow of what it was. But still, fear can never be destroyed, and so his Fearlings continue to stalk the night in search of those children who are filled with unhappiness and fear. Turning their sleep into nightmares."

Jack finished his drink and set the mug on the table, his expression thoughtful.

"Well at least their master isn't causing trouble anymore. Sandy showed me a child that had been touched by a Fearling, and I promised him I'd keep an eye out for those things. If I ever see one of them, there's no way I'm going to stand back and let them go after any children. They'll get a blast of ice to the face if they even try."

He thumped his fist on the table in emphasis, leaving a swirl of frost where it struck. Meanwhile, Ombric was regarding him rather oddly.

"You seem rather odd for a Spirit of the Seasons. The others are by far less... sympathetic... to mortals than you are."

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes.

"They're a bunch of complete stiffs, they have no clue what to make of me, and I don't care what they think of me. I'm not going to stop being myself, just to stop getting on their nerves." He stood up, taking hold of his staff. "Thanks for the drink, and for answering my questions, but I really need to go clear that snow out of your forest. I also need to spread out all the snow I brought down off the mountain, across the valley so that it will melt properly in spring. Otherwise you might get flooded by snow-melt."

Ombric rose to his feet so that he could usher his guest to the door, and he smiled warmly as he opened it to let Jack out.

"It has been a pleasure meeting you as well. And, perhaps, you could stop by once your work is done, so the children can say farewell to you before you return to your village?"

Jack nodded to that, and later that day once everything was done, he soared through the skies back to America with a joyous smile on his face. For around his shoulders flapped a new cloak the same as his old one, but for that the wool was pale-grey, and it had been trimmed with darker grey fur. A cloak fitting, as Ombric had termed it, to give as a token of friendship to the Spirit of Winter.

It got more than a few admiring glances once he arrived back at the village, from the children and from Emily, and they listened avidly to his story when they gathered around him in the woods outside the village. His story about meeting The Sandman in the skies over London, and the tale about the magical village in Siberia that was led by a wizard.

He was just telling them about how the children of the village had given him the cloak, to replace the one he'd torn, when a flicker of light overhead caught his eye. But when Emily and the children said they couldn't see it, he shrugged it off as something only the Immortals could see.

After all, who else would send ripples of multi-coloured light flowing across the sky from somewhere to the north?

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Hee hee, I think you can all guess what is coming next... Bunny is going to be a bit peeved at North :P

And as for those tweaks I mentioned above, I'll explain them here for those who didn't catch them.

In the second book, North is wounded by Pitch but saved by some of Bunny's special chocolate. I've changed it so that it was actually the Man in the Moon who saved him, and that at that time he was sworn in as a Guardian.

My other tweak is that Aster was already a Guardian, although he never mentioned it, and had been for centuries when North and Katherine sought him out. He just kept to himself because being the last of the Pookas, he was a bit of a loner (Being the last Pooka is also part of why MiM chose him to be a Guardian)

Last thing I've added (which I only implied in this chapter), is that MiM was the one who swore in Sandy, who swore in Toothiana, who swore in Bunnymund, who swore in North. So it's sort of that the youngest Guardian is the one who officiates the ceremony of the next new Guardian to take the oath. So, naturally, North will #ahem# prepare for that eventuality... All of a sudden that scene in the film becomes that much more funny XD


	13. Naughty List

Alaia Skyhawk: And the rest of the Guardians make their appearance! WOO!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 13: Naughty List

The lights rippled outwards from their source, casting across the skies like waves. If the people below had been able to see them, they could be forgiven for mistaking them for the northern lights. But the northern lights would never be seen so far south, and in fact the glowing signal would eventually reach as far as Antarctica. For that was what it was, a signal that only the Immortals could see, and which was directed at a very specific group of them.

The first of that group was now homing in on the signal's source, a workshop built upon the side of a mountain in the Arctic, close to the North Pole. It was the home of North, the youngest of the Guardians, and it was the second oldest of them that flew in through the open top of the domed structure at the complex peak.

Toothiana darted past the massive globe that sat under the dome, which displayed the entire world covered with uncountable millions of glimmering lights. Each light was a child, one that believed in at least one of the Guardians. When she reached the viewing level next to the globe, where a massive hearth heated the chamber, she perched herself on a ledge after noting North was on one of the lower levels under the globe, where dozens of yetis were hard at work making and wrapping toys.

North was striding among them, urging them to keep up the pace, and it wasn't surprising. It was a little under four weeks until Christmas, which made his summons of the other Guardians all the more unusual. This was his busiest month of the year.

Tooth frowned a little, the feathers on her head fluffing out before she shook it. She had three of her fairies with her, and through them she could continue to relay tooth locations back to the thousands of other fairies passing through the Tooth Palace. She did so, idly taking this moment to check the rest of the feathers that covered her entirely, didn't have any that were sticking out at odd angles. For while she had wings somewhat like the stereotypical image of a fairy, that was where all resemblance to what humans generally pictured her as like, ended.

She was not a flaxen-haired maiden with wings like a dragonfly, who wore a dress made of silk and flowers. Her many segmented wings were pointed, not rounded, and had sharp edges she could used to great effect in a fight... But for her hands and face, she also happened to be covered from head to toe in iridescent blue feathers, which changed to green then gold around her neck, before becoming blue and green around her face. She had a single prominent golden plume reaching from her forehead, which folded against the trailing golden tips of the other long blue feathers which gave her the appearance of wearing a headdress.

In short, she looked like a cross between a hummingbird and a very pretty lady, with wings that were made up of several pointed segments on each side, not that you could tell when she was flying, since the individual blades of her wings blended together into one blur.

She was still rattling off tooth locations while she took this chance to give her obviously immaculate wings a check over anyway, when she heard a door on the lowermost level of the building open and then slam shut. That was then followed by the distinct grumbling of a certain 'Easter Bunny' in his distinct accent.

E. Aster Bunnymund, or Bunny as he was now nicknamed thanks to North persistently calling him 'Bunny Man' until the Pooka had given up and agreed to the compromise, came up in one of the wooden contraptions that ran on rails between the various levels. When he arrived at the top floor, he then went straight over to the fireplace to warm up his feet.

Tooth slid off her ledge and flew over.

"Tunnel come out in the snow again?"

Bunny stood up to his full height of six foot one inch, a little over seven feet if you included his ears. He didn't so much as look like a normal rabbit, but rather resembled one with a longer and more slender body, who happened to spend most of the time walking around on two feet so he could use his rather dexterous 'hands' for either painting eggs, tinkering with one of his machines in the older part of his warren, or for throwing the pair of boomerangs he kept secured in a strap around his shoulder and torso.

He folded his ears back, and frowned in irritation.

"No matter how many times I come here, and North promises me the workshop wards won't interfere with my tunnels anymore, I still always end up outside. Why has he even called a meeting, anyway? This close to Christmas, it must be important."

Tooth shrugged, still hovering in the air as she did most of the time. She rarely set down on anything except for the occasional rest.

"I don't know. He's down below overseeing the yetis, so I'm guessing he'll come up here once Sandy arrives."

A blot of golden sand caught their attention, and they looked up to see Sandy float in through the opened roof on his usual cloud of sand.

Bunny flicked his ears up again.

"And speaking of The Sandman, here he is."

Sandy waved to them as he reached the hearth, and after dismissing his sand-cloud he formed a question-mark over his head.

Tooth sighed, answering as a nearby yeti headed down to inform North they'd all arrived.

"We don't know yet, but Bunny and I both agree it must be something serious. It's so close to Christmas."

All three of them glanced at one another then settled down to wait. A couple of minutes later North arrived at the top floor, holding a piece of paper in one hand as he greeted them. He was a tall as Bunny, with broad shoulders and a rather heavy-set body, dressed in a red shirt and dark trousers and boots. He sported a long, white beard, and white hair, and yet surprisingly his eyebrows were black. He also had a thick Russian accent, having grown up there and travelled with a band of Cossacks in his youth."

"You came! Good, good."

Bunny eyed him with a small frown.

"So what couldn't wait for our annual meeting?"

North stopped before them, and took a deep breath.

"This is big news, very big."

Tooth fluttered closer, hovering in tension.

"What?"

North held up the piece of paper, which only now did they see had the red corners on it that said it came from the massive collection of similar sheets which made up one of his two infamous Lists.

"There's a new name on Naughty List!"

All three of his fellow Guardians stared at him, dumbfounded, before Bunny's ears folded back in profound annoyance.

He pointed at North, sharply.

"You called us here for _THAT?_ New names appear on that damn list of yours all the time!"

North, waved the sheet from the Naughty List, shaking his head.

"This not normal name! Is name of new Immortal! First new one since I was picked! Immortals only appear on Lists, when do something very good or bad that not part of their duties." He shrugged. "Is why Pitch never on Naughty List, he always bad so waste of space wherever he is. Every Immortal but him has been on my Lists at least once, and this is name I never seen before!"

Tooth's violet eyes widened, and she started to smile.

"A new Immortal? That _is_ big news! It's been over a century since you became one, and for the five centuries before that, a new one used to show up almost once a decade." She moved so she could look over North's shoulder at the paper. "So what did the new one do to end up on the Naughty List?"

North went utterly still, before then flailing his arms with such ferocity that Tooth had to zip out of range or risk being hit.

"He almost buried Santoff Claussen under avalanche!" He lowered his arms, shaking the piece of paper. "No one hurt, and no damage, but still! Anyone who harm village even a little, goes on Naughty List!"

Bunny glanced at Tooth, for both of them knew all too well how much that village meant to North, while behind them Sandy had his eyebrows raised due to sudden suspicions about who's name was the new one on the list.

He waved to North, and made a question-mark above his head, causing Bunny to nod.

"Sandy's right. Tell us the name, already."

North calmed down, and turned the paper so they could see the name.

"Jack Frost, and name is written in gold, not silver."

Tooth blinked.

"So he's a Major Immortal, not a Lesser Immortal." She curled up a little, hugging her knees close to her body in excitement. "I wonder what his job is."

Sandy began waving even more vigorously to get their attention, and once they'd turned, he created his symbol for the four seasons and pointed to the snowflake.

North raised his eyebrows.

"Spirit of Winter?"

Sandy nodded enthusiastically, then created a life-size image of a barefoot young man, barely more than a boy, who carried a staff like a shepherd's crook and who wore a short cloak.

Tooth's head-feathers fluffed up, and she darted over to Sandy until her face was inches from his.

"You've met him? When? Where? Why didn't you tell us?" Sandy shrugged, backing up to give himself some space from her rapid-fire questions, then drew a sun and moon which he turned backwards by one circle. Tooth interpreted. "You only met him yesterday?"

Sandy nodded again, then began excitedly chattering in rapid symbols about how Jack had been able to banish the touch of a Fearling from a child. But the concepts were so complex to convey with mere images, that all three of them stared at him in complete bafflement. That bafflement became a debate about what he might have been trying to say, which then became a squabble between North and Bunny while Tooth turned away in irritation and began rattling off tooth locations to her three fairies.

Sandy huffed silently, and was all set to try again when a glint of moonlight came through the open part of the dome and touched his shoulder.

He looked towards the Man in the Moon, and heard the faintest whisper reach him through the moonbeam.

'Our secret.'

Sandy regarded him in surprise, then frowned a little, before letting out a big sigh and going back over to his three peers. He then took hold of both North and Bunny by an ear apiece, twisting both as if he were disciplining two unruly children, and once they were both quiet he nodded to Tooth to say the conversation could now continue in a decorous manner.

He floated over to the space in front of the hearth, and while North and Bunny both rubbed at a sore ear each, Sandy began to made more life-size images of Jack. He showed him dancing across rooftops while snow fell, and having a snowball fight with a group of children. He then showed an image of Jack sat beside him on a cloud of dreamsand, the young immortal gesturing animatedly as he chatted away with a smile on his face.

Sandy then dismissed those images, and used symbols to describe that Jack had then left because the winds told him he had an avalanche to tend to. He made no mention at all of the Feared child, or of Jack being able to banish the shadow from him.

By this point North looked thoughtful, Bunny seemed relatively indifferent, and Tooth looked like she wanted to hug someone, probably Jack.

She had her hands clasped in front of her, in the way she always did when she found something to be adorable.

"Aww, he sounds like such a nice boy."

Bunny snorted, sceptical.

"He's the Spirit of Winter. Give him a few decades, and he'll become as empty-hearted as the other three Spirits of the Seasons. He's only cheerful now because he's new. Once the novelty of being immortal and having powers wears off, the only smile we'll get from him will be one of cynicism. Mother Nature doesn't pick her servants for their good nature, she chooses them because they'll do what she tells them to and not care if they hurt anyone."

North started to frown.

"Is true she can be cold-hearted, but she has to be. Nature isn't always fair."

Bunny jabbed a finger at him.

"Yeah, it can be downright cruel, and so can she. Times like that, you can tell she's Pitch's daughter."

" _Bunny!_ " Tooth glared at him in reprimand, and then continued at a quieter volume. "She was asked to govern the Earth's seasons, by the Man in the Moon, for a reason. She makes sure Pitch will never mess with the seasons, because she's the one person on this world who he can never harm. The Golden Age is over, and almost everything of that era was destroyed by him. But Pitch is stranded here, he can never leave unless he gains enough power. The Earth is his prison, and we are his jailers. Only by protecting the children of the Earth from him, can we make sure he doesn't destroy this world and move on to another like he has so many before."

Bunny folded his arms across his chest, stubborn.

"And some jailers we are. We don't even know where he scuttled off to after that last fight, just that Manny said he was defeated."

North nodded, but spoke with more concern and caution to his words.

"But Manny also not say, that Pitch would never come back and try again. We must keep eye open for signs he causing trouble." He looked towards Sandy. "Any unusual Fearling activity? You seen more of them around than normal?" Sandy shook his head, and North sighed in relief. "No more than the usual scattering of nightmares, eh? Well, we know you will keep good watch for trouble. You always have."

There was a moment of silence, then Bunny spoke.

"Well, if that's all, I'm off back to the Warren."

He tapped his foot on floor twice, and disappeared down the resulting burrow, which then filled in behind him leaving a pink flower where it was. Tooth made her own goodbyes at this point, as North plucked that flower off his floorboards and tossed it down the central shaft of the building, and then flew off back to the Tooth Palace.

Sandy waved his own farewell before leaving via the dome, and after he'd watched the open part slide closed again, he frowned and looked at the moon. But the Man in the Moon had gone silent again, without explaining the reason he'd wanted his oldest Guardian not to tell the others about Jack's unusual ability.

Sandy huffed in annoyance and shook his head, before deciding to seek out the Spirit of Winter to finish the chat that had been interrupted by the winds. As for finding the young immortal, he did have an idea of where he might possibly be... Thanks to the memory of a small village in North America, where despite a blizzard raging outside, the children had been unafraid of the storm.

He located the village swiftly, and began to look around the surrounding woods. There was a pond fairly close by, and from it Sandy could feel an echo of Jack's power. The land around it held memories of a sort tied to that, and with a touch of dreamsand, Sandy let those memories shape an image of the ones linked most strongly to that echo.

In the middle of the pond, the familiar figure of Jack formed stood opposite a younger girl, and as Sandy watched the scene unfold, 'Jack' urged the girl to trust in him as he cautiously stepped to where the image of a familiar staff lay upon the ice. The image then urged the girl to move towards him, before hooking her with the staff and throwing her clear... Sandy then saw the image of Jack plunge through the ice.

A second image followed after the first faded, of Jack rising up through the ice as if lifted, and then being set back down upon it.

Sandy called back his dreamsand, having seen enough to know this was indeed the place Jack had spoken of. The village where the children knew of and believed in him.

The little golden man floated over to the village, starting to look around before realising Jack was probably away on weather or avalanche duty. And so Sandy perched himself on a roof, of the house which seemed the most appealing in some unspoken and odd way, and settled down to wait.

He was just starting to nod off when the front door of the cabin opened, and with the whistle of wind someone quickly glided around the back to the woodpile. It was then that Jack spotted his visitor.

"Sandy! I didn't know you were here!"

Sandy jolted out of his doze, sliding off the roof in surprise and then catching himself before he could hit the ground. He then blinked when he saw Jack stood in front of him, carrying several pieces of wood under one arm. He was also wearing a new cloak of grey wool, which had been trimmed with darker grey fur.

Jack grinned, doing a turn on the spot so Sandy could see how it fit.

"Do you like it? The children and their parents in Santoff Claussen, gave it to me after I tore my old one when the avalanche clean-up I did next to the village didn't quite go to plan. I also had hot chocolate inside Big Root, while I talked to Ombric. It was nice, but I had to cool it down first."

He looked a little embarrassed as he admitted the mishap, but then genuinely happy as he talked about Ombric. Sandy chuckled, having decided to spare telling him that accident got him put on North's Naughty List, and instead complimented on the cloak with a wide smile and a nod.

Jack glided to the side of the cabin, then waved for Sandy to follow.

"Come on. I'll introduce you to my sister and Albert." He continued round to the door and opened it, waving for Sandy to come in too. "Emily, The Sandman is here."

Emily turned, her smile holding the enthusiastic light of someone who was still a child at heart.

"Really?" Sandy entered tentatively as Jack then closed the door behind him, and the little golden man was rather surprised to have a seventeen-year-old woman rush over to him in greeting. "It's wonderful to meet you. I'm Emily, and this is my husband, Albert."

Over by the fire, Albert was frowning a little and squinting like he was having trouble focusing on Sandy. In truth he was just faint blurry blob to Albert's eyes, so Jack helped out with a snowflake to allow him to open his mind fully to the belief that The Sandman was real and inside the cabin.

Albert then wiped the chill from his face, and got up to offer his hand in greeting.

"It's a honour to meet the one who was behind so many of the great dreams I had as a child, and who grants good dreams to all other children in the world."

Sandy stared almost dumbly for a moment, clearly quite startled to be visible to two adults who were _not_ residents of Santoff Claussen. But he recovered quickly and shook Albert's offered hand, before he then conjured a top-hat which he tipped to both him and Emily in greeting. He then smiled warmly, and fired off a series of symbols over his head.

Jack frowned at them, and interpreted.

"I think he just said he's happy to meet two adults who can see him. It's... um. Uh..." Sandy shook his head with a small smile, and started to spell it as Jack mumbled each letter in turn. "Ruh... ah... ruh...eh... Rahreh? Rare?"

Sandy nodded and made an image of a book. He then pointed to Jack, the book, then Jack again and shook head with question-mark.

Emily interpreted that one.

"No, we can't read. At least, not a great deal. Jack and I know our letters, but not much more."

Jack shrugged.

"Backwoods village in colonial America. Hardly anyone out here can read."

Sandy started to gesture, and drew a picture of Big Root and Ombric, followed by a picture of Ombric and Jack sat side-by-side at a table with a book between them.

Jack blinked.

"Ombric would teach me to read?" Sandy nodded eagerly, then showed a picture of Ombric surrounded by the village children while he wrote something on a chalkboard. Jack grinned. "If I learn to read from him, I could teach Emily! Then she could teach the rest of the village too!"

He was practically bounding in eagerness at the thought, and Emily laughed while Albert chuckled beside her.

"Well it can wait until Southern Winter, after the baby is born. The village children would be _very_ disappointed, if you didn't come play with them all Northern Winter because you were off having reading lessons."

Jack glanced at her wryly.

"Very true." He leaned against the nearby wall casually. "I'm pretty bored during the Southern Winter anyway, so it'll give me something to do."

Emily looked to Sandy, and then pointed to the stool near the other chairs by the fire.

"Would you like to sit and talk with us for a while? It's not everyday that someone can say they have The Sandman visiting their home."

Sandy smiled and floated over to sit on the chair, before proceeding to entertain the three of them with various elaborate images in sand, like miniature plays. They were so entranced by the display, that none of them noticed the little wondering glances that Sandy kept directing at Jack, and also at the glimpse of the moon visible through a gap in one of the shutters.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Hehehe, the image of Sandy twisting North and Bunny's ears, is just so damn funny. And the mystery grows! Manny has a secret, and he's definitely not going to let Sandy in on it yet :P


	14. Familial Joy

Alaia Skyhawk: Time for some more fun and fluff :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 14: Familial Joy

He glided over the surface of the pond, leaving a trail of ripples on the water's surface as he passed. Birdsong echoed through the surrounding forest, and the winds were warm.

Jack sighed, keeping his powers reigned in tight so as not to freeze anything or coat it with frost. As a consequence even the frost on his clothing had thawed, resulting in only his white hair, pale complexion, and the hint of frost on his staff marking him as the Spirit of Winter. And the reason he was taking the effort to be restrained?

It was two weeks until Southern Winter was due to start, meaning he was still hanging around near the village when for that region it was two weeks until _summer_ was due to start. Ariko had been bad enough to deal with the past few weeks, but Achieng would be a complete nightmare by comparison if he was still here when she did her preliminary flyover a week before she brought Northern Summer.

Jack smirked to himself at that, knowing he wasn't going to be hanging around more than another day or so... It was just the _waiting_ that was getting to him right now.

His thoughts were disrupted by an errant gust of wind, one that carried the unmistakable scent of flowers. And with that, Jack sighed and turned to face where the Spirit of Spring had landed on the shore of the pond.

He greeted her in a pleasant tone, as if she'd not confronted him almost every other day for the past month.

"Greetings, Ariko, Spirit of Spring. What can I do to help you this fine day?"

Jack suppressed a new smirk. Ok, so maybe his pleasant tone had also held a note of considerable sarcasm.

Ariko rose up into the air, her long black hair and the folds of her kimono, fluttering in the breeze. She then came over in such as way as to give the impression she'd stomped over instead of gliding gracefully, before jabbing a finger at his face so quickly as to almost make him lean back away from it.

He didn't, he'd gotten used to this now, and so ignored the fingertip that was being held an inch from his nose as she yelled at him in her rather dainty way.

"You need to leave, Frost, _now_. You're not supposed to be here at this time of year."

Jack smiled sweetly, before drifting backwards to sit on the rock in the middle of the pond. Once there, he then splashed his bare feet in the water.

"Why not? It isn't against the rules for me to enjoy some warmer weather for a change, and it's not like I've frozen anything either. I've made sure not to." He let his false smile fade, now rather sick of her persistence and also in no mood to deal with her anymore. "Besides... This is _my_ pond, _my_ home, and I don't have to leave here until a week before winter is due in the South. So I'd appreciate it if you would _mind your own business!_ "

Ariko pointed towards the village, glaring at him.

"And what about _them?_ With their little _shrine_ to 'Jack Frost' in the middle of the village square!"

Jack scowled, picturing the little peak-roofed niche that had been built at the base of the storm-pole. It wasn't even that fancy, just a box with two sloped boards on top. It contained a little clay plaque that Emily had made, with a rough drawing of a cloaked figure with a shepherd's-crook staff on it.

He pushed his irritation aside, and kept his voice composed and indifferent.

"So? I like to play with the village children during winter, and they happened to mention my name to their parents. When the children started telling stories about how I made sure they were safe when they played in the woods, and that when ice appeared to hang down the pole, it was a warning about a bad blizzard coming, they came to the rest of the conclusions on their own. Although, admittedly, my sister gave things a nudge. She may be seventeen now, but she still believes in me and can still see me."

Ariko was glaring daggers at him, little flower-petals materialising in the air around her to be stirred by the wind. They were supposed to demonstrate the degree of her anger, but in truth all they did was make her slight, childlike frame resemble a doll. She was just under five feet tall, very slender, and that diminutive size combined with the petals made it even harder to take her seriously.

"You just don't understand it, do you? You are the _Spirit of Winter!_ And you and the rest of us _aren't meant to be seen!_ "

Jack regarded her flatly. Oh how he was going to love knocking her down a peg.

"That's not what Mother Nature said, and you could go ask her if you don't believe me." He grinned, bracing his elbows on his knees. "She doesn't mind me having some 'minor Legend Immortal' influence here in my home village. So long as I fulfil my duties as the Spirit of Winter, she _doesn't care_ what I do with the rest of my time." He waved at her cheerfully. "So I guess I should just say 'goodbye for now'. If you're so set on us Spirits being in certain places at certain times of the year, then doesn't that mean you hanging around here to yell at me, will make you late for sprucing up the Spring Sanctuary with fresh blossom?"

More petals formed around her, and a hint of fog began to mix with them when clenched fists were added to her posture of anger and disapproval.

"Frost! You have to be the most _immature_ person I have _ever_ met. Why you were chosen to be the Spirit of Winter, I have no idea what Mother Nature was thinking!"

"Maybe she got sick of how boring and stuffy, you and the others are."

The little Japanese girl's jaw hung open in shock at his remark, before the very air around her began to tremble with her rage. But before she could lash out or even yell at him some more, petals and fog vanished from the air around her, due to the surprise of a freshly conjured snowball hitting her square in the middle of the face.

Jack watched the blue glitter of 'fun and joy' dissipate around her eyes and sink in. He then he watched as she wiped the snow from her face, with her expression torn between the desire to angrily throw something in return, and the sudden childish urge to start giggling.

When that urge caused the corner of her mouth to start to turn upwards in a smile, and she looked like she was about to choke on un-requested laughter, she flushed pink in embarrassment and flew away on a gust of wind.

Jack waited until she was out of sight, before collapsing sideways on his rock and laugh until his sides ached. Let her try figure out what had made her want to laugh, he knew she wouldn't. Whatever abilities she might have had, other than the ones related to her season, she was so stuck-in-a-rut with her mindset she'd probably never discovered them.

Of course, a part of him did wonder if she had any other abilities at all. A part that wondered if he were somehow different, and special. After all, Mother Nature had said that she'd chosen the Spirits of Spring, Summer, and Autumn... But also that she had not chosen him. He'd been chosen by the Man in the Moon.

He went quiet and frowned to himself. To even think that seemed a bit arrogant to him, almost like what could become the start of a bad habit. One that could lead to him being as 'high and mighty' as Ariko and the others.

He grimaced to himself and pushed the thought aside. Even if he _was_ chosen to be different, it didn't matter. He had an official job to do, and he'd do it... He smiled to himself. He also had his unofficial 'job' of protecting the village and making the children laugh and smile. He didn't need anything else.

He turned his head to gaze towards the settlement, his expression becoming one of tension and worry. He'd come out here because he'd been practically pacing back and forth in mid-air, thinking that perhaps some distance would make it easier. But he wanted to go back now, to be there, even if it made him anxious to the point of beating his head off the nearest tree to deal with it.

Jack floated up from his rock, a silent request to the winds speeding him over to the village. He then landed out the back of Emily and Albert's cabin, and went to lean against the wall beside the man himself.

Albert glanced at him, eyebrows raised.

"I thought you couldn't stand waiting here... where you could hear everything."

There was a muffled cry from within, and both of them winced. Jack then sighed, remembering the last time he'd done this... Stood outside the family cabin with his father, listening and waiting as his mother brought Emily into the world... But this was different, because now it was _Emily_ having a baby. His little sister was about to become a mother.

Jack slid down to sit at the base of the wall, and cradled his staff across his lap.

"It's just as bad waiting over there, to be honest. At the pond, I was waiting while unable to hear what was happening, which meant I was left _wondering_ what was going on. Ariko distracted me for a while, but then she left."

Albert frowned.

"The Spirit of Spring? Why was she there?"

Jack snorted in derision.

"Yelling at me for hanging around here so long. I put her in her place, informing her that I have Mother Nature's permission to be wherever I please so long as my duties get done as well." He chuckled. "I then threw one of my special snowballs at her. She looked like she didn't know whether to giggle or scream at me, and flew off."

Albert chuckled as well.

"I almost feel sorry for her... You must be so bewildering."

Their smiles turned to winces, as Emily groaned and yelped in pain once again. Any further conversation stalled, and the two men remained outside continuing the wait.

Another hour passed by, then two, and still neither of them left their vigil. And then came the most glorious of sounds, the cry of a baby newly born into the world.

The two of them darted round to the front of the house, where the village midwife had opened the door. Albert went in, but Jack remained outside. It would be too awkward to sneak in while she was there, and then sneak out again, so as much as it irked him he perched on the edge of the roof and waited.

Albert came out again ten minutes later, wearing a smile that went from ear-to-ear in joy as he called out loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"I have a son! Thomas Jackson Bennett!"

Several villagers came over, resulting in much back-patting and congratulations for the new father. Meanwhile Jack sat blinking for a moment in surprise at the name, before a smile of equal joy lit his expression. He should have known Emily would insist on Jackson.

Sighing in bliss at this moment, he rose up into the air above the village, to look at where the road wended its way towards the river and the crossing point there. So much had changed, even his sister was changing, becoming a mother, and all of a sudden the concept of time, as he would have to view it, came crashing down upon him.

Jack's expression turned to a frown. Emily was seventeen, and out here if she was lucky she would live to see sixty-five, maybe seventy. Their parents were already nearing that age, their mother was fifty-four, and their father was four years older than her. The harsh life in these lands, even with the Spirit of Winter's protection, would not let them see many more years. He'd seen the age in them last winter, when a persistent cough had spread through the village. It had lingered on in his father far longer than anyone else, and his mother had been left struggling for breath for weeks.

Jack shoved those thoughts away, even going so far as to hit himself with one of his own special snowflakes. They only had a mild effect when used on himself, but it was enough to banish the ache in his heart and set that painful reality to the back of his mind. Not forgotten, but not where it could spoil this occasion.

He dropped back down to the roof of the cabin and waited for the midwife to finish her work and leave. When that happened, Albert made sure to leave the cabin door open as he thanked the midwife, allowing Jack to slip in.

Inside the cabin, Emily was sat propped up in the bed with a bundle in her arms. She smiled when she saw him enter, and tiredly waved a hand for him to come over.

"Come see your nephew." Jack came over and sat on the chair beside the bed, and while Albert closed the door, Emily passed her son to her brother. "Thomas, this is your Uncle Jack."

Jack almost went rigid in nerves when he found himself holding the infant in his bundle of blankets. But then his gaze drifted to the little boy's face, and a tiny hand poked out from the edge of the coverings. Without thinking, he offered a cool finger to that grasp, and smiled in wonder when tiny fingers closed around it.

"He's beautiful."

He now passed Thomas to Albert, who was wearing the same blissful smile of joy as Emily. And when Jack left the house an hour later, after bidding his farewells, he flew south carrying those precious memories with him.

Within half-an-hour he was at the Winter Sanctuary, to wait the final few days until Southern Winter would start. It was during that time that he built a new wing to extend his modest ice palace, turning the interior into a spacious hall with a ceiling that glittered with refracted light. It was in there that he spun a pedestal of ice up from the floor, and upon it crafted a perfect sculpture of Emily and Albert holding their infant son.

Jack set a dome of perfectly clear ice over the sculpture, then set his forehead to that surface. He had no explanation for what he was trying to do, but instinct guided him. That and his desire to preserve that perfect memory forever.

When he opened his eyes and lifted his face away from the dome, the sculpture within was no longer simple white ice. Instead it was tinted with the exact colours from his memory, muted only a little by the medium in which they were cast, creating an everlasting image of that precious moment.

Jack smiled, knowing this would likely be the first of many sculptures to fill this hall. So that even when years had passed, and Emily was gone, he could come here to see her smile again. He would fill this hall with his most joyful moments, so that whenever he should feel burdened by loneliness, he could remind himself of what mattered.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: And Jack is now an uncle! If you're wondering how he gave colour to the sculpture, I worked based of the fact that water and ice can refract light and split it into a spectrum (the way rain makes rainbows). What Jack's power did, was change the crystals within each part of the sculpture, so that they would refract the light in a certain way, creating the illusion of colour :)


	15. Lessons and Stories

Alaia Skyhawk: For anyone wondering how Jack was able to hold Thomas, this is the idea I had. Children who aren't yet old enough to 'choose' to believe in things like Santa etc, will see any immortal and be able to interact with them so long as someone else acknowledges that immortal's presence first. In that way Pitch can't be seen, heard, or touched by really young children, because no-one around them can see or acknowledge him, and even his fellow immortals would tend to ignore him in front of such children for that very reason.

This is my way of explaining how Jack could have carried Sophie in the film. The others acknowledged and talked to him in front of her, so she accepted that there was someone there. I'd say her reason for not speaking to him or anything, is that there were lots of colourful distractions and a giant bunny keeping her occupied :)

I'll have him figure this out partway through the story.

-

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 15: Lessons and Stories

High above the clouds, he soared, up in the frigid reaches where his fellow Spirits of the Seasons could not go. He wasn't up here just for the faster flight speed, but also to avoid a certain Spirit of Summer. If Ariko had been irritated by him being at the village for all of Spring, then Achieng would be more than irritated that he was once again trespassing in the North of the World when Southern Winter was taking place in the South. Never mind the fact that Northern Summer/Southern Winter was her quietest time of the year as was his, and never mind that his destination was in a part of Siberia where the summer temperatures didn't rise above what could be termed 'comfortably warm, but not hot'.

Jack neared that area now, and dropped into a steep dive to plunge through empty upper air, down to the cloud layer which was pierced in places by mountain peaks. He let the winds guide him so he didn't inadvertently slam into the side of the mountain near Santoff Claussen, and soon he was flying through a light shower of early-summer rain.

The village looked very different now than it had in winter, with Big Root and the surrounding forest cloaked in a layer of lush greenery. Jack could hear the children playing in those woods, where the canopy held off the worst of the wet. Part of him wanted to go play games with them, but that might be pushing his luck. Achieng would most likely ignore him being in the north, if he was here as a guest of Ombric, but if he started creating snowball fights here outside of the correct season for them, she'd have more than a few choice words for him.

Jack landed at the foot of Big Root and climbed the steps to knock on the door. When it opened just a few moments later, Ombric took a few moments to realise just who it was at his front door.

He blinked, and looked past Jack to the lush summer leaves and flowers everywhere, and then looked at the Spirit of Winter again to indicate he come inside.

"What brings you here, Jack? Don't you have duties in the South?"

Jack watched him close the door, and then shrugged.

"Southern Winter isn't actually a lot of work for me. There's only a handful of places where I need to do avalanche duties, and those need me to do about an hour's work once a _week_." He paused, starting to feel a but embarrassed. "So, since this is some of the quietest time in my year, I was wondering if you would, um... teach me to read? Sandy suggested I ask you."

Ombric blinked at him in surprise yet again, and straightened up before a bright smile lit his expression.

"Of course I will! I take great pride in teaching those who come to Santoff Claussen in search of learning. It is the very reason I founded this place!" He began to bustle Jack towards a winding set of stairs. "Come with me, we can go up to the library and get started."

Jack had no chance to protest the way in which he was prodded and poked to get him up those stairs, but the sight that greeted him at their destination more than made up for it.

The library wasn't really all that large, but it was _crammed_ with books of all shapes and sizes from floor the ceiling. It was also presided over by what had to be the oddest book of all, one whose spine was actually a melding between what would normally be expected, and the face, arms and legs of a worm-ish sort of fellow with round spectacles.

The strange book fluttered his pages like wings and turned to face them, his eyes looking Jack up and down as if inspecting him.

"Ah, so you're the Spirit of Winter that Ombric told me about. Sorry we weren't introduced to each other during your last visit, although you really didn't stay all that long."

As Jack remained where he was, his expression clearly stating he wasn't sure _what_ to make of this, Ombric explained.

"This is Mr Qwerty. He looks after my library, and in a sense also _is_ my library. He was originally a rather well-educated bookworm, but an incident with Pitch required him to eat all my books to keep them out of that fiend's hands. It resulted in him becoming the remarkably unique fellow you see before you. He can display on his pages, the contents of any of the books that he ate." Ombric now looked to the bookworm. "Mr Qwerty, could you retrieve the beginners' reading books for English? Jack comes from a place where most do not get the chance to learn reading and writing, and he wishes to master both."

Mr Qwerty fluttered his pages again, this time in surprised outrage.

"A place where children don't get to learn to read? Atrocious!"

He continued to grumble as he flew up to a shelf and came back with a handful of slender books. He set them down on a small table off to one side, and Ombric urged Jack to take a seat at it.

The wizard then opened the first book, and pointed to a chart of sorts on the first page. It was filled with groups of letters, and what sounds those combinations made when read aloud.

"Do you know the alphabet?" Jack nodded hesitantly, and Ombric smiled. "Good, that makes things easier. Think of reading as a sort of game, where the words are made up of groups of letters like puzzle pieces. This page shows all of the most common 'pieces' that make up words, so once you have these memorised it will be possible for you to begin reading actual writing, and in turn to begin writing things for yourself. There are lots of other rules for writing, such as grammar and punctuation, but do not worry about those yet."

Jack took hold of the book, the frost on his clothing already thawing. He'd pulled his power in out of what was becoming habit when he didn't want to damage something that could be harmed by wet or damp. He then peered at the groups of letters, murmuring a few of them to himself, before he nodded.

"Sort of like a game, huh? I'm good at games."

He went quiet, very quiet, with only the movement of his eyes and his soft murmurings revealing he wasn't some sort of statue. In the blink of an eye he'd become utterly intent on the lesson laid out on paper before him, with the kind of single-minded focus that few but the Immortals could achieve.

Ombric smiled to himself and gestured for Mr Qwerty to follow him out of the library. He then chuckled with a glance back towards the Spirit of Winter.

"I don't think he'll need it, but if he has any further questions, help him with them. And when he's finished with those books, make sure to give him some more so he can practice."

Mr Qwerty nodded and fluttered back into the library, as Ombric returned downstairs to prepare for today's lesson for the village children.

For the Spirit of Winter, his attention focused on learning to read so that he could teach Emily, the passage of time became a distant concern. He didn't need to eat or drink, both being something which he only did now for enjoyment, and so the only thing that required him to move from the table was the occasional call from the winds to say he had an avalanche to tend to. But even those only kept him away for a short while, as he moved on from the beginner's books and started to apply the lessons from those to the new books that were periodically added to the pile in front of him as others were removed. And the new ones contained _stories_.

Jack eagerly poured through those books with gradually increasing speed, as it became easier and easier to put together the pieces of unfamiliar words, and those he'd already learnt became instantly recognisable. He read stories about pirates, princes, grand adventures and mysteries. Each was like a miniature world, full of imagination, and it was so much _fun_ to be able to experience these stories that others had written.

Even when the library's modest collection of storybooks ran out, and Mr Qwerty began putting history books on Jack's table instead, the Spirit of Winter still didn't stop reading, even if it was with less gusto and more thought. His curiosity meant that history had its own pull on his attention when it was placed before him, and it was only now that he started asking questions about some event or other.

The days and weeks had turned into one spread of words-on-pages, intermittently broken by open skies, wind, and snow. It was only when he felt the two-weeks-warning tug of impending Northern Winter, that he realised he'd barely left his seat in Ombric's library for close to _six months_. A startling fact.

He leaned back in his chair, looking around in mild confusion as to where all that time had gone, and it was then that Mr Qwerty chuckled.

"Finally come up for air, have you?" He fluttered over, looking rather impressed. "I don't think I've ever seen such an avid student. Not even North could stay in one spot reading for a long as you have. Ombric and I started betting on how good you'd get at reading before you stopped, but we gave up trying to guess after you read the entire works of William Shakespeare in a single day."

Jack regarded him with a odd smile.

"His comedies were ok, but the tragedies were a bit depressing for my tastes."

Mr Qwerty hopped onto the stack of books in front of Jack.

"Have you considered learning other languages as well? You're a very quick study, although being the Spirit of Winter obviously helps. You don't have to keep stopping to eat, drink, or sleep."

At the mention of sleep, Jack stood up to stretch his slightly stiff limbs and fought back a yawn.

"Yeah, although now that you mention it, I could do with a nap. My powers have just informed me I have two weeks until Northern Winter starts." He looked for his staff, and grabbed it from where it stood leaning against a bookshelf. "Do you think you could get me copies of those beginner's reading books? I want to teach my sister to read, so she can teach the rest of the village children too. And could I get copies of some of those storybooks too?"

Mr Qwerty's pages started to tremble, and he stared at Jack with wide eyes.

"You wish to spread the joys of books to that place you spoke of, where children do not get the chance to learn to read?" Jack nodded, and the bookworm took off in a flurry of madly-flapping pages. " _I shall see to it at once!_ "

Jacked watched the bookworm begin rapidly writing down the books that were needed, and decided that now would be a good time to retreat downstairs.

Ombric was waiting for him, with a mug of cooled hot chocolate perched waiting on a floating tray. When Jack raised his eyebrows at that, the wizard smiled.

"Big Root told me you were coming down. Will you be leaving soon?"

Jack took hold of the mug, and sipped the contents before replying.

"In a day or two. Northern Winter starts in two weeks. Mr Qwerty is going to sort out copies of a few books for me, so Emily and the village children can learn to read."

Ombric's smile widened.

"Indeed, he was most incensed to learn of such a place where few people could read. He is wise in many ways, but in others he is rather sheltered. Not everywhere is like Santoff Claussen. If they were, then the world would be a very different place."

Jack sighed at that.

"It would, and it would be a wonderful place... It's just a pity that most humans forget the innocent joy they had when they were children. Instead they replace it with 'responsibilities', using those as an excuse to deny themselves that youthful happiness, but that's just stupid... I have responsibilities, _big_ ones, but I don't let that stop me being my true self. I'm proof that there's no reason they can't have both."

Ombric nodded to that, turning his gaze to look out the window at the view of the village children playing outside.

"It truly is shame, but alas it is also human nature. Tis human to seek to have an explanation for everything, and more often than not 'logic' is chosen while the magic of simple 'belief' is forgotten. That is the greatest magic of all, the 'first spell' that was taught to all those who lived in Atlantis, and which I teach to all who live here in Santoff Claussen."

Jack joined him at the window.

"So what is the spell?"

"I believe, I believe, I believe." He glanced at Jack, his expression wry. "The simplest spells are often the most powerful, and that is especially true of the First Spell. It has thwarted Pitch on several occasions, much to his annoyance. You'd do well to remember it." He moved away from the window and headed for the stairs. "I'm going to ask Mr Qwerty to add one more book to those that are to be copied for you. I think a copy of Katherine's special stories would not go amiss in the hands of your sister, for I am sure they will bring great pleasure to the children of your village."

Jack followed, curious.

"Who is Katherine?"

Ombric's smile took on the smallest hint of sadness.

"'Mother Goose' is how you may have heard of her. She is a great writer and keeper of stories, and is presently travelling the world atop the back of her Himalayan Snow Goose, Kailash. She, like myself, is not an immortal and yet her powerful belief sustains both her and Kailash well beyond normal years. She has dedicated herself to writing stories of the world's happenings, so that the children of the future can learn from them whenever the time should come that she is gone. As a result she decided to go on an adventure, perhaps a year or two before you became Jack Frost, and thus far has only returned a handful of times to tell stories of her travels to the village children. But, I am sure you will meet her eventually."

And so it was a day later that Jack flew off from Santoff Claussen, but not until after he'd given the village children a large patch of early snow as a present. He left to the sound of a snowball fight starting up, and with a contented smile on his face, with his precious bag of books held tight under one arm.

The children of his home village would get plenty of similar snowball fights this winter, but they were also going to get lots of stories told to them around camp-fires... And part of him also mirthfully wondered, how the adults in the village would react when their children all mysteriously began learning how to read.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, I'm bringing Bookworm!Jack into this story. It makes such a great contrast to his general mischief-making, that I know I'm going to have lots of fun with it... Plus, picturing Jack reading a storybook to the village kids is just too darn cute!


	16. I believe, I believe, I believe

Alaia Skyhawk:

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 16: I believe, I believe, I believe

Jack sighed as he descended towards the village, the first snows of winter having fallen on it the previous afternoon. He'd gone to the Winter Sanctuary after leaving Santoff Claussen, wanting to keep the books as a surprise for when he could go to the village and stay put for a while. But even that week and bit of delay had been test in resisting temptation. He'd spent it looking at the stories written by Katherine, and practicing reading them aloud. He'd never really been much for telling stories around camp-fires before he'd died and come back, and he wanted to make sure he'd do those tales justice.

His expression now changed to a smile, when the village itself had come into view. He could see the garlands of ivy, fern, and winterberries hung on every porch, and the little shrine at the base of the storm pole had a pile of berries in front of it as well.

Jack landed with the grace of a snowflake on the top of the little shrine, frosting over its roof before spiralling the frost up the pole. The nearby children began to smile and point when they saw him, and the nearby adults looked reassured to know the Spirit of Winter had returned and given the village his blessing.

There wasn't enough snow on the ground yet for a snowball fight, but Jack did grin at the children mischievously.

"Come to the pond this afternoon. I've got a surprise for you all."

The children darted away to tell the rest of their friends, and Jack took that opportunity to discretely slip into his sister's cabin. Albert wasn't there when he entered, but she was, and she was sat at the table spooning mashed up vegetables into her son's mouth.

Jack couldn't help but stare, at the sheer change between his nephew when he was newborn and the way he was now. After spending all of summer and autumn locked into reading books with no concept of the time passing, this evidence of how long it had been was something of a shock. He'd missed so much while he was away.

Little Thomas' gaze fixed on him, the infant curious about this new visitor. It was that which made Emily realise that someone was there, and she turned before gasping in joy.

"Jack!"

She was at his side in moments, pulling him into a hug that he gladly returned. He then picked up the bag he'd set down, and held it out to her.

"These are for you, although I'll be borrowing a few of them now and then to read to the children."

Emily's eyes widened, as she then accepted the bag and quickly opened it to reveal roughly thirty or so different books. For a community out in the wilds, the collection would be worth a small fortune if she'd had to buy them, for all of them were leather-bound and made of the finest quality materials... Mr Qwerty wouldn't have accepted anything less.

She set the bag on the table, beside the wooden chair where Thomas was propped up in a nest of folded blankets, and lifted out one of the books.

"Oh Jack, where did you get these?"

He continued to smile, and spoke with a hint of humour.

"They're a gift from Ombric, and his library assistant, Mr Qwerty. Qwerty got quite worked up when he learnt almost no-one here could read, so he may have added a few more books than what I asked for copies of." He now started to look a bit embarrassed. "Ombric got me started on reading, and then besides my Southern Winter duties, I've spent most of the last six months with my nose stuck in one book or another. Reading's actually quite easy once you start to get the idea of how the words are written. I've got copies of the teaching books in there as well, so I can show you how to read during this winter, and then you can teach the children during the summer. All the others in there are storybooks, and there's even one full of stories written by 'Mother Goose'."

Emily almost dropped the book she was holding, and she stared.

"Mother Goose is real? Is she an Immortal, like you?"

Jack shook his head, and went over to Thomas to offer one of his fingers to the boy. The infant happily grabbed the cool digit, and gurgled happily.

"No, she's like Ombric. Her power of belief is so strong, that it sustains her and stops her growing too old. I don't know how that works, but it seems to be a rare gift... She's travelling the world right now, on an adventure to gather and write more stories, to preserve them for children to hear and enjoy even after the day that she's gone."

Emily reached past him to pick up her son, and she sighed as she held the boy in her arms.

"I wish I could do something like that, for you... I'm not going to be here forever."

Jack felt his smile fade at those bleak words, but then made himself cheer up by getting out the teaching books so he could start to show her how to read. Every day after that, for the rest of winter, he would meet the children at the pond to tell them a story, before triggering fun and games involving lots of snowballs, and then in the evenings he would sit with Emily and Albert and teach them to read.

He would watch them sitting side-by-side at the table with a book between them, while he entertained Thomas. He was almost on the Nice List that year, for 'teaching two people to read'. But days after that entry had appeared due to the magic of the documents, and before North had even seen it, it vanished. Because unfortunately an incident involving a roof-load of snow, and the prank of deliberately making it slide off onto the head of the village bully, outweighed that act and got him on the Naughty List again. And so the Lists marked him down as having 'dumped large amount of snow on a child's head'.

But he knew none of that, and such things were far from his mind. Instead, Emily's words lingered at the back of his mind, as one year, became two, then three, then four... Before he knew it, he'd been the Spirit of Winter for twenty three years, and Emily celebrated her thirtieth birthday. Thomas was thirteen now, almost fourteen, and the village had three new families and cabins.

But most of the children living there, moved to the nearest big town once they reached adulthood. Only a handful remained to live and raise families of their own at the village. That had happened with one of Thomas' friends, a boy three years older than him who had now gone off to be a tailor. Every little thing like that, served to remind Jack of how fleeting time was, and how much he missed when he was away so much of the year.

Every time he came back, something had changed even if only in a small way. If anything, Emily teaching the village children to read was what had caused so many to leave once they'd grown up. Their literacy gave them an advantage in life, and let them go off to seek more prosperous work than farming, hunting, and mining. But even so, Jack couldn't bring himself to regret giving them that gift. Their prosperity was his and Emily's legacy, something given to the future that would live on even after she was gone.

There were times when Jack wondered if she'd realised it, that the name 'Emily Bennett' was now firmly tied in village lore both about the Spirit of Winter and the village itself, as the founder of the Festival of First Snow. And that in itself was a reason he wished dearly that he could stay year-round... Because for him, something inside had shifted, and the passage of years was starting to mean less and less. Once or twice he'd gone to the Winter Sanctuary in early Northern Spring, laid down for a nap, and not woken up until he got the warning nudge of impending Southern Winter. Maybe he really did need to sleep once in a while, to rest and rebuild his reserves, even if he never felt like he _had_ to sleep... but even so.

Time was slipping through his fingers, be it through dozing off in boredom at the Ice Palace, or losing himself in lessons at Santoff Claussen... _Her_ time was slipping through his fingers, when all he dearly wanted was to cherish every moment of it that it could... It was hard, seeing her, Albert, and their son change so much in his absence every year... They were years where his routine mean that things were as much the same one year as the next.... Things were starting to blur together to the point that he now relied on a tally he'd carved upon one of the walls in the Ice Palace... That was the only reason he even knew the year was 1734.

"Sorry, no story today."

"Awww! But Jack!"

"Hey now that doesn't mean we're not going to have fun. I brought some friends for you to play with. They're my helpers, the Winter Sprites."

Jack shooed a quartet of the furry, white sprites out of the bushes where they'd hidden and towards the children. By the time he'd also created a simple ice-slide, which the sprites adored, any uncertainty on the part of the little creatures was lost in the sheer fun of urging on or taking turns with the children to ride down it into a massive snowdrift that he kept topping up with more snow when it became too squashed down.

But he had to admit, it was becoming harder to have fun with the children without also dwelling on his own conflicted feelings. He'd planned to tell them Katherine's story about the Himalayan Snow Geese, but his heart just wasn't in it today, and any of her stories deserved better than his distracted state.

When the time came that the children were called home, Jack remained at the pond and perched on his staff in the centre of it. There were no clouds as night fell, and the sky was crystal clear. The stars glittered like uncountable tiny promises, their light casting only a faint glow on the show-cloaked forest until the moon rose and everything became gilded in dazzling silver moonlight.

Jack had one faint smile for that moment of transition between gloom and glow, but then it faded. It was like the wonder he'd felt at all this in his first few years as Jack Frost, was fading away. His hopes and dreams for the future were withering away day-by-day, and even with his growing collection of coloured ice-sculptures back at the Ice Palace, it was becoming hard to call forth those happy memories they represented. Especially when all he seemed to be doing was sinking slowly into depression.

And really, a part of him was starting to ask, what was the point in even trying? If clinging to his family was causing him so much pain already, how was it going to feel when Emily died, and Albert, and Thomas, and then their descendants after that? What was the point of dreaming of a future with them, when all it was going to do in the end was torment him?

Jack closed his eyes and hung his head, still perched on the staff as the winds circled him in concern. He ignored the avalanche call when one came, knowing well the area it referred to. It could wait until tomorrow night.

The winds left, casting the air around the pond into utter stillness. He didn't move when they returned, eyes still closed and head still bowed. It was only when he was startled by a touch on his shoulder, toppled off his staff, and was caught by a cloud of dreamsand that he even noticed who had crept up on him.

Sandy waved in greeting, then drew a swirling wisp of sand to represent wind, tugging on an image of himself.

Jack blinked.

"The winds brought you here? Why?"

One of the winds curled around his shoulders, and for a moment there was a sound like the faintest whimper of concern. Sandy then reached out to pat him on the shoulder, then drew a picture of himself coming to a slumped and unhappy Jack, and then the two of them starting to smile and laugh.

Jack sighed, unable to help feeling down and embarrassed.

"Great, they brought you because they thought I needed cheering up. That's the winds for you, always sticking their proverbial noses into places and things that don't concern them." One of the winds buffeted him, making his hair stand on end with its passage, and it kept doing it. "Ok, fine! You were worried about me! You can stop that now."

The air stilled and Jack glanced at Sandy, who responded with a simple question-mark above his head. Jack then sighed, and answered.

"I guess that after twenty-three years of this life, the 'novelty' of it has worn off. I feel like, I don't know... It's almost like some part of me is dying inside, along the hurt from knowing I'm missing so much of Emily's life whenever I'm away... I'm starting to wonder if it's worth it. Is it worth clinging to that? It is worth fighting against becoming like the other Spirits of the Seasons? Because if they went through what I'm going through now... I'm starting to understand why they stopped caring, and isolated themselves."

Beside him, Sandy's eyes had widened in concern, and he began vehemently shaking his head and waving his hands around in emphasis. While above his head he drew an image of Jack laughing and smiling as he played with children. And then he drew another where those children didn't see him, walked through him because they didn't believe, and Jack flew off without even reacting because he didn't care. That Jack then sat alone upon a rock, in solitude, never smiling again.

Sandy didn't just dismiss that image, he smacked it apart using his hands and then took hold of the real Jack by the wrist. His gaze in that moment, was one that the Spirit of Winter was sure could see right through his soul, and then Sandy's expression softened into a sort of regret, as he re-drew the two versions of Jack, one playing with children and one sat alone, and then pointed to the second.

The question was clear. 'Is that what you really want?'

Jack stared at the two images for several moments, then ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

"No, I don't want that. I don't want to stop playing with the children, and I don't want to be alone. But at the same time, I feel like that side of me is slipping through my fingers because I don't have the strength to keep hold."

Sandy frowned, thinking, and then drew Emily. He showed her and a child Thomas in winter, with Jack there, and then Jack flew off while she remained behind, and then Jack returned. He repeated the sequence several times, and each winter Thomas was taller and even Emily changed a little... But Jack remained the same.

After that came another question-mark, and Jack reluctantly nodded.

"Yeah, that's it. They change so much when I can't be here with them. It doesn't help that there are times between Southern and Northern Winters, where I've dropped off to sleep without meaning to and woken up _months_ later. The time seems to be going by so fast, and what seemed like such a long amount of time before she'd grow old and die, suddenly doesn't seem so long anymore. That _scares_ me, because I've stopped seeing time the way a human does, and instead I look at decades the way I once looked at years. I know in my head what nature expects for the next five winters, where the weather needs to be harsh and where it needs to be gentle... But at the same time I'm struggling to think what stories I'll tell the children this Northern Winter, or the next. What new games will I invent for them, and what old ones will I continue to play with them? It's like 'Jackson Overland' is vanishing, and I'm frightened."

Sandy settled into a pose of deep thought, glancing at their surroundings until he noticed the image of the moon reflected on the polished ice of the pond. Jack hadn't been in the mood to decorate with with frost-patterns, and so it was shiny like a mirror.

The Sandman began to mime out one of Katherine's stories about a magic mirror being used to look at some place far away. Jack recognised the story immediately, and raised an eyebrow sceptically as Sandy then showed an image of him creating one.

"You think I should try making a magic mirror? I do ice, not glass."

Sandy rolled his eyes and pointed to the reflection of the moon on the ice, causing Jack to blink in surprise. How had he not noticed that before, about ice?

"Ice can reflect images... A mirror out of ice?" His eyes widened. "If I could invent a new way to use my magic, to make a mirror I can look through, I could watch Emily and the family even during Northern Summer! I could stay in the Winter Sanctuary, and never get on Achieng's bad-side again, and still never miss out on what's going on back home!"

Jack let out a whoop of excitement, the winds responding to his exuberance by whirling him up into the air in shared joy. Meanwhile Sandy looked on, smiling to himself at a task well-done, and at Jack being broken from his depression. The Spirit of Winter had a _dream_ again, one of creating a way to watch over the village, and share in the happy moments of his family's life, even when circumstances meant he couldn't be there.

Jack barely noticed when Sandy left, he was too busy perched where he was on the rocks at the side of the pond. It took a fair amount of concentration to make a disk of perfectly flat ice the size of his palm, since the substance wanted for form glittering crystals or forms that were rippled as if shaped by wind or flowing water.

Once he had that, he frowned as he inspected it, discovering that being able to see through it stopped him focusing on any reflection that might be visible. It needed an opaque backing, and he made one by allowing one side of the disk to erupt into a glittering carpet of tiny crystals all packed together. He could now see his face in his ice-mirror, so long as there was nothing bright behind it.

Over the following months, Jack continued to work on his mirrors, becoming able with practice to shape them larger and larger until he'd even managed one twice as tall as himself. That one ended up decorating a wall in the Ice Palace, where he was in residence in the days just before the start of Southern Winter.

By mid Southern Winter, Jack started to become frustrated. Having decided that perhaps smaller was better while he was still trying to figure out how he could possibly make them do what he wanted, he continued on. Until the day when he threw and smashed his latest attempt, and scared several Winter Sprites in the process.

He sat on the frozen floor amid the shards, fighting with disappointment and fuming at himself for failing despite so many, many attempts. Once again, without him asking, the winds sought out and brought Sandy. The little golden man dropping to the floor beside the Spirit of Winter, and then gathering the shards into a neat pile.

Jack sighed, but didn't raise his head.

"Did you ever have trouble like this? I mean, I've seen you make _huge_ shapes out of solid sand, that move. Were you always able to do that, or did you have to learn how?"

Jack now looked at him, and Sandy let out the smallest sigh. He then began to write in letters of sand above his head. It was more time-consuming than using symbols, but it let him say exactly what he wanted Jack to 'hear'.

Jack began to read the words that appeared and faded in turn, murmuring them softly to himself.

"'I wasn't always able to. At first, only the imagination of children could give shapes to dreamsand. But then I asked, why should I not be able to as well? It was my sand, so why not? That was when I learnt all abilities, talents, powers... they come from belief. Believe in your heart that your mirrors will reflect a place far away, instead of what stands before them'." Jack stood up. "Are you saying that all Immortals are like that? They start with abilities that are instinct, but can learn new ones as well if they try?"

Sandy shrugged again, drawing Jack making snow and a mirror of ice, and nodding. He then drew what was obviously Achieng starting a fire and her attempting to make the same mirror of ice, and then shook his head.

Jack nodded, understanding.

"So they can invent new ways to use their powers, so long as what they're trying is compatible with the materials their powers provide them. Ice can reflect light and images, so I _can_ make mirrors that show far away places. I just have to truly believe that I can?"

Sandy's smile widened, and he drew a picture of Ombric, causing Jack to let out a laugh.

"Of course! The First Spell, why didn't I think of that?" He danced a little on the spot, his eagerness making him fidget, before he effortlessly created a new hand-sized mirror and let it hang suspended in the air in front of them. Jack then gently set his fingers to its surface and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I believe, I believe, I believe... Show me my pond. Show me, so that I can see it as if I were there right now."

When nothing happened, and Jack glanced at Sandy, his fellow immortal urged him to keep trying. No one could expect it to work first time. In the end it was about an hour later, after dozens upon dozens of attempts, that Jack almost gave up in frustration before forcing that feeling to change into faith instead. At that moment he felt the tingle of power flow, and pulled his fingers away from the mirror which now had a wash of pale blue light sweeping outwards from its centre.

And as the light passed, in its wake it left the image of a view he knew so well... It was his pond, and the narrow field-of-view offered by the small mirror, seemed to be from somewhere close to the ground. He and Sandy knew that, because there was summer grass and flowers blocking part of it.

Jack leaned closer, gazing at the image in awe.

"I did it... _I did it!_ " He paused, starting to lift his hand towards the mirror. "And... it really does look as it would if I were there. You can't even see the ice in the middle of the mirror anymore, it's like looking through an open window."

He went to touch the mirror to confirm the presence of invisible ice, and instead his hand passed through. He yanked it back sharply in surprise, then after a glance at Sandy, he craned his head to one side of the mirror while Sandy went the other. Once they were both able to see the back of the mirror, he then stuck his hand through it again... At the back of the mirror, there was no sign of it.

Jack pulled his hand clear, startled, and looked at Sandy.

"I felt the warmth, the wind, it was like my hand was _there_."

Sandy blinked at him, and after looking back and forth between Jack and the ice-mirror, he nonchalantly stuck his own his arm through it and came back with a fistful of grass and flowers. He then let them drop to the floor, and clapped in congratulations.

Jack stared.

"What are you congratulating me for? I wasn't even trying to do that! I just wanted to see the pond... as if I were there."

Sandy smiled, and drew and image of North using one of his snow-globes to travel across the world, and then one of Bunnymund tapping a foot on the floor to make a magical burrow appear. He then drew more than a dozen other immortals, of both major and lesser ranks, using their own ways of moving swiftly and often instantly from one place to another. Magical portals of one kind or another were actually quite common among the immortals, those symbols said. Jack also knew, from reading books about the various immortals while at Santoff Claussen, that many of them couldn't do their jobs without such ways to get around, because most immortals _couldn't fly_.

Jack frowned. He knew that those immortals had ways to travel instantly because they needed them, but he didn't. It didn't make sense.

"Are you saying that, if I can learn to make those bigger, I can use them like _doorways?_ " Sandy nodded, and Jack's frown became wry. "Ok, I'll admit they'd save me a little time during avalanche duties, but really, the rest of my work needs me to _fly through the skies_ from place-to-place. And to be honest, I'd _rather_ fly. Taking a single step, and not getting to to ride the winds, wouldn't be much fun."

Sandy drew an image of Jack writing a letter, and using an Ice Mirror to set it on the table beside Emily's bed. And then another of Emily writing a letter, leaving it in the same place, and Jack collecting it using another mirror.

Jack's eyes widened in realisation.

"I could send her letters, even during Northern Summer?" He started to get excited. "Even if I can't go there, I could still get all the latest news of what's been going on!"

Sandy made a question-mark, added to an image of Jack making a large mirror and stepping through it. Would he ever use them as doorways?

Jack shrugged.

"I suppose I might use one if it were an emergency, but really... I prefer flying, and there's no immortal out there that can cross the world faster than me without using a magical shortcut." He grinned. "My only motivation at this point, for mastering making them larger, is so I can get a bigger view. I can hardly see anything through that thing unless I put my face right up to it."

He reached through the mirror to gather his own handful of grass and flowers, and his smile suddenly took on a hint of mischief.

"I wonder..."

He touched the frozen frame of the mirror and the image changed, showing the plaza of the Winter Sanctuary and several Winter Sprites that scurried around it. Jack then backed up a few strides, conjured a snowball in his hand, and threw it through the mirror with unerring aim.

One unfortunate sprite took the ball to the back of the head, landing face-down on the floor, while around it the rest of the sprites began blaming each other for the snowball and an all out snowball war started.

Meanwhile, back inside the Ice Palace, Jack and Sandy started to laugh.

"I'm going to have so much _fun_ with this."

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: Yep, I gave him a portal ability, because really when you think about it, most figures of legends are people and creatures that can't fly. If they have duties all across the world, then how could they possibly get them done unless they had a quick way to get from place-to-place?

And of course, Jack having his Ice Mirror portals means he can prank people without being physically anywhere near them. He can start snowball fights in loads of places really fast to make lots of kids have fun (later on), and I also have some small plot-additions for when I get to the film in the time-line.

The writers actually goofed in the film. Day one is a "snow day" meaning the kids don't have to go to school, so that means it was a Friday. Jamie loses his tooth that day, and before the following night (for his time zone) has ended, Sandy has been defeated, Sophie has ended up in the Warren, and the Guardians trek off there to paint eggs... Now, it's obvious that Sophie is returned home before dawn that same night (because otherwise her mother would have been freaking out), which is the Friday night/Saturday morning... NOT Easter Sunday... So, um, where did Saturday go?

I'll be adding that day in when I get that far :)


	17. Bright Memory

Alaia Skyhawk: Here's the next chapter guys! And a shout-out to orion-redde for drawing this super cute picture of a Winter Sprite. They've got them pretty-much bang on, just picture the little fellow with his fur fluffed out as if he's had an encounter with a vandergraph generator, and you get the idea :D

The picture can be found here: www . orion-redde . deviantart . com/art/Winter-Sprite-347796233 (Take out the spaces either side of each " . ") Thanks again, orion!

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 17: Bright Memory

'October 2nd 1738' is what the icy numerals on the wall declared, placed above a pair of hooks that held a certain wooden staff, which in turn were placed above the 'bed' below. That bed was little more than a slab of ice with a huge pile of snow heaped onto it, and buried among that snow as if it were blankets, was the Spirit of Winter.

The faint sound of whirring cogs came from behind the wall, a soft background noise he was used to by now, but nothing could ignore the sound which was about to replace it.

Behind the wall was something akin to a perpetual calendar and alarm clock, designed by Ombric and then built by Jack so that the power within the Winter Sanctuary would fuel it and keep it going forever. And that 'clock', once per day at the exact same time, played a melodious but _VERY_ loud tune using two-dozen bells made of ice, much like the rest of the collection of icy cogs and pivots were made.

The bells began to ring out, loud enough to make the snow on the bed tremble, and a head of white hair emerged from that snowdrift.

Jack yawned and reached up to grab his staff from its perch, before floating up out of the snow and whisking it smooth again in the manner that normal people would straighten their blankets. He then landed on the polished floor and strolled over to where an Ice Mirror about eighteen inches across, was held in a delicately fluted stand of ice. Beside it was a large armchair, also made of ice, which had been heaped with snow in the place of cushions.

He dropped in among that snow comfortably, at the same moment the mirror shimmered. He still hadn't managed to make them much bigger than this one, but he'd at least perfected controlling them without touching them. As for where he was looking using this one, it was the bedside-table in Emily and Albert's house.

Jack blinked, staring in curiosity, at the sight of a folded cloth bundle and a small scrap of paper on that table. His 'alarm clock' was built in part for this reason, so that he would always check-in for messages from his sister at the same time every day. But he also leaned forward to stick his head through, and confirm there were no visitors in the house before he grabbed the items on the table... The first year he'd started using Ice Mirrors this way, he'd almost treated one of Emily's neighbours to the sight of a floating letter. It had only been Albert's quick thinking, in stepping to the side to block that sight, which had prevented it. 'Check before take' was now the rule, and Jack obeyed it.

Inside the cabin was empty, although there were the usual signs that Emily and Albert had just had breakfast before going out. It was early morning at village time, which was almost noon at the Winter Sanctuary, but Jack didn't mind. He tended to go by village-time for everything anyway.

He grabbed the bundle and the note, lifting them carefully through the mirror before changing the view in the mirror to an image of his pond. But then he changed his mind, and altered the image to one of Santoff Claussen. The sun would be setting there soon, and it was always breathtaking to watch. Besides, he could get sounds though his mirror now, and listening to the children of Santoff Claussen playing with Bear, brought a smile to his face.

Sighing contentedly, Jack leaned back amid the snow of his seat and opened the note from Emily. Moments later he was up in the air, grinning from ear-top-ear at the news it contained.

Thomas, who was now seventeen years old, was soon to marry his childhood sweetheart, Clarrise, and it was going to be a winter wedding! Clarrise was a year younger than Thomas, but had been one of the village's staunchest believers in the Spirit of Winter. She'd only stopped being able to see him last summer, so re-kindling her belief with the nudge of a special snowflake, wouldn't be hard.

Jack chuckled to himself, about something else. He also knew Thomas was completely smitten with her, and had teased him mercilessly about it for the past three years with questions of 'so when are you going to ask her?'

He set aside the note, after he'd drifted back down into his chair to examine the bundle that had been with it. When he unfolded the mass, the discovery of what it was made him grin yet again. Emily had tsked no end last Northern Winter, about the state of his shirt which had been snagged in several places and torn in several others. It seemed that anything that wasn't close to his skin like his leggings, or protected with magic like his cloak from Santoff Claussen, only got so much protection from his powers. Twenty-seven years of throwing himself around through air and snow and woodlands, had taken its toll on his poor shirt, so Emily had made him a new one, and a new waistcoat to go with it.

And he knew, that if he wasn't wearing it when he arrived with the first snows, she would want to know why.

Jack laughed to himself, removing his cloak and his tattered shirt and waistcoat, before he donned the new ones with the eagerness of a child.

The new shirt was made of soft, thick linen, and must have be costly although Emily would be stubborn if he mentioned that. It had a row of small wooden buttons down the front, which he would guess that Albert had whittled since each one had a snowflake carved into it. The new waistcoat was made of grey wool, to match his cloak, and Emily had stitched stylised frost patterns into it along the two front edges.

When he had both items of clothing on, Jack admired how the ice he naturally caused on his clothing had settled into the snowflakes on the buttons, and had added to the 'frost' on the waistcoat as well. Once he'd put his grey-wool cloak back on, he then created a floor-length non-enchanted mirror so he could check how he looked. And if he were to describe it in the terms Emily would teasingly use, he looked rather dapper if one ignored his tattered leggings. She'd complained about the state of those too, but he'd had been stubborn about that. He liked how they gave him a slightly rougue'ish look. Mischievous, he'd told her. He thought of them as too much a part of him to ever change.

New clothing on, he sat down again to watch the sun set over Santoff Claussen. He then changed the image to show a distant view of the Tooth Palace, where the sun would set in about an hour. It was set at the point which was the closest he'd dared get to Toothiana's home, that being the limitation he'd discovered on his Ice Mirrors. He could only view, and therefore create portals to, places he had been and seen. Which incidentally meant he could make them just about anywhere in the frigid upper airways, but closer to the ground he was rather more limited, not that it mattered. He could descend from the upper heights, to ground level, in less than a minute. But it also meant he couldn't view or travel to the interior of buildings unless he'd been inside them. A frustrating fact he'd discovered when he'd attempted to slip into Bunnymund's Warren to take a sneaky look around, only to be unable to raise any image on the mirror at all.

A pity really, he wanted to find out how Bunnymund managed to paint _so many eggs_ each year.

Jack sighed, comfortable among his snow-cushions as he watched the sun set over the Tooth Palace, and then he dismissed the image and left his bedroom. He went to the lower level of his palace, and to a huge chamber he'd added in a new wing to the rear. It was a massive sphere, like being inside a globe, with a tall spire in the middle with a simple stool of ice placed on the top of it. Covering the walls were thousands upon thousands of hand-sized ice mirrors, and as he sat on the platform each and every one of them changed to an image of sky with misty glimpses of cloud, land, or water along the bottom edges as if far far below the viewing point.

The mirrors around half of the chamber showed night, and the other half showed day, with a region of dusk and dawn where they met. Small breezes started to come and go through those portals, and instead of waiting up to an hour for a particular wind to arrive with weather news, Jack got word of the local conditions for any of his selected regions of the world, in a matter of seconds.

He'd taken to monitoring the world's weather in this fashion, during the long and boring span between Northern Winters. One: it let him spy on the weather changes his fellow Spirits of the Seasons were up to. Two: it was actually quite entertaining watching day and night circling the walls of his Hall of Mirrors, because he also had four slightly larger mirrors set at the four corners around his perch. It was through those that he viewed things closer to the ground.

He brought up a view of Thomas, who was sat with Clarrise on a bench at the edge of the village square. Clarrise was a rather pretty brunette, with rather more freckles than she would like. However, Jack knew that Thomas found all those freckles to be cute.

Jack smiled at the sight, wondering what he should do for a wedding present while at the same time acknowledging that he didn't really have anything he could give them besides a pretty snowfall on their wedding day. That would have to do, and it was after two more days of weather-watching, that Jack felt the pull of Northern Winter and flew out of the sanctuary with a whoop of laughter.

~(-)~

The village was filled with the usual anticipation, most of those who were present all watching the storm pole. Everyone waited for the Spirit of Winter's arrival, the children most of all, but little did they know there was a slight change in the usual routine going on.

Jack fought not to laugh, as he left a last-minute 'gift' inside the cabin that had been built for Thomas and Clarrise. He had to stay quiet, lest the nearby children hear his very familiar chuckle, but thanks to an Ice Mirror and an unsecured window, he managed to finish leaving his surprise.

That done, Jack swept backwards out into the woods, before soaring up in the sky to come down on the pole from above as if nothing were different from the norm. The children saw him arrive, they cheered like always, and he frosted over the pole which signalled to the villagers that the festivities could begin.

He waved to his sister and her family, in silent promise to come to them once he'd tired the village children out enough to give them the slip. It was starting to get dark before he managed it, and that was only because their parents called them to their homes.

He landed on the porch of Thomas' cabin, Clarrise having returned to her parents house since propriety meant his nephew living in the house alone until they were officially married. That was where he waited when Thomas and Emily approached the house. Albert was busy splitting more logs for the woodpile before it got too dark.

Jack smiled.

"Miss me?"

Emily returned that smile, the expression accentuating the creases now at the corners of her eyes. Age was starting to show on her.

"As much as I always do, even with the letters."

Jack's gaze moved to Thomas, and he gestured to the house.

"I've left a surprise in there for you. Go on, go and see."

Thomas approached the house, and paused once he stepped on the porch.

"Should I be worried?"

"Nah, it's a nice surprise."

Thomas opened the door and went in, and once he'd stepped from view there was a sudden 'Ooof!' before he called out.

"Jack! Get these sprites off me!"

Jack laughed and darted into the house, followed by Emily who stood at the door and fought not to laugh at the scene within.

Thomas was just about completely immobilised, by the mob of around a dozen Winter Sprites who were clinging to his arms, legs, and torso. Jack laughed again, leaning on his staff.

"But I thought you'd like it... I didn't really have anything I could give you as a wedding present, so I thought lots of hugs would make up for it."

Emily started to giggle, and then moved forward to start extricating her son only for the sprite she took hold of to transfer its attentions to her. She then looked at her brother, still laughing.

"Jack, this is a wonderful 'gift', but really. Thomas can hardly marry Clarrise with these adorable little fellows still clinging to him."

Jack shrugged and whistled once, before sharply inclining his head towards the open door in silent command. The Winter Sprites reluctantly let go of Thomas and Emily, but one or two still gave the pair a final hug to the leg before scrambling out the door. Jack then closed it and settled into a nearby chair with a sigh.

"It seems like barely yesterday that you were a tiny child, Thomas, and I held you in my arms. Yet now you're about to get married. Promise me you let me know when any children are expected to be born."

Thomas laughed.

"As if I wouldn't." He paused, thoughtful. "When are you going to help Clarrise remember you again?"

Jack frowned a little, but then replaced it with a smile.

"The morning after the wedding would be best, I think. Bring her out to the pond just after dawn. That will be too early for the village children to come looking for me for games." He went quiet, still regarding his nephew thoughtfully. "...It really does seem like only yesterday. Time is going by so fast."

"Jack, are you all right?"

Emily came over to her, placing her hand on his shoulder, and he nodded.

"I'm fine. I have my moments, when I think about the day you'll be gone, but then I tell myself that no matter what I'll still have all the happy memories we made together."

She nodded, and hugged him tight.

"That's right, and in a few days we'll make another one."

And so it was, to a delicate fall of snowflakes lit by the dawn sun shining from the clear sky to the east, that later that week Thomas and Clarrise said their vows. Their day blessed by yet more signs of approval from the Spirit of Winter, when the eaves of all the houses were then frosted over with patterns like garlands of flowers. It was a feeling of elation that was repeated the following day at the pond, when a touch of a special snowflake, and the reassuring words of her new husband, opened Clarrise's wide eyes to the Spirit she had stopped being able to see.

Life was good, watching their life and happiness was good, and Jack knew he had a new image to add to his growing collection of sculptures. The radiant smile of Clarrise, stood with one arm around Thomas while her other hand clutched a snowball ready to throw at Jack. One that was easily dodged followed by a peal of laughter from him.

Yes, life was good, for however long it would last.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: I didn't detail this wedding too much, or Clarrise being helped to believe again, since I'll be doing that with another generation of the family much further on. Also, this stage of Jack's story is winding down now, and the next one is soon to begin.

I think you can probably guess what will be coming next.


	18. To Let Go

Alaia Skyhawk:

Disclaimer: I don't own Rise of the Guardians, the Guardians of Childhood, or any related characters etc. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes.

~(-)~

Chapter 18: To Let Go

'October 3rd 1768' the numerals on the wall said, as bells rang out their daily summons and Jack yawned as his always did before floating up out of his personal snowdrift. He wore a particularly wide smile as he did a final sweep around the sanctuary to make sure everything was as it should be, before he soared out through the tunnel to the surface and up into the sky pulling along winter in his wake.

He'd been the Spirit of Winter for fifty-seven years, making him seventy-five years old. Emily had joked about that last winter, saying that his age was finally starting to match his hair. They'd all laughed at that, her and Thomas, Clarrise and their three children, and even their four _grandchildren_. One sad note was that Albert had no longer been with them. He'd died in 1765, killed by a fever that had swept through the village taking several of the youngest and oldest of the villagers with it.

Emily hadn't been the same after that, a small part of her brightness having dimmed, but she still held to her smiles and laughter, and she still led the way in the Festival of First Snow every year. The Bennett Family had become the caretakers of the Shrine to the Spirit of Winter, and she was indisputably the head of the family. They stood tall at their growing part in the traditions of the village, and Jack couldn't be anything but proud of them, his family.

Still smiling in anticipation of another Northern Winter of fun, Jack made his annual circuit of the North of the World. Swooping over mountains and high, snowy plateaus, past low-lying valleys and over glaciers, he put winter into place. It didn't snow everywhere, in fact it only snowed in a handful of places, and only one of those was deliberate. And when he finished setting Northern Winter in motion, Jack flew back to that place and landed atop the storm-pole an hour after dawn.

The village had the thinnest covering of snow, which sparked in the morning light and was a bright contrast to the garlands on the porches and the berries in the shine below him. The children that waited for him all cheered at his arrival, and he returned their smiles with an exaggerated bow while around them the adults also smiled at the confirmation of the Spirit of Winter's return.

Jack iced over the pole, still smiling, but then his smile froze into place when he noticed something... Emily wasn't among those waiting, and yet the rest of the family was.

Thomas met his gaze and then inclined his head towards the village children. Silently mouthing a handful of words.

'They want you to play with them... Come to my house, later. Emily is waiting for you.'

Jack could only watch as Thomas and Clarrise turned and walked to their cabin, but was then forced to give his attention to their grandchildren and the other youngsters who clamoured for him to make them enough snow for a snowball fight.

Jack obliged them, eventually caught up in the fun and laughter until by midday the children were worn out from their games and went to their parents to help with the rest of the festivities. It was then that he was finally able to slip away, and land upon the porch of Thomas' house. He knocked on the door and waited, until his nephew opened that door.

Thomas came out, blocking the entrance and refusing to meet Jack's gaze as he murmured.

"Uncle Jack, there's no easy way to say this... My mother doesn't have long left, she's been bedridden for weeks, but I think she's held on for you. To see you arrive with winter one last time."

Jack stared at him, his eyes wide with denial before they narrowed with anger.

"She's _dying?_ She's been ill for that long, and none of you told me?!"

"...Jack, don't shout at my son."

The words were barely above a whisper, but he heard them. Jack shoved past Thomas and into the house, where Clarrise sat in a chair beside the bed where Emily lay.

Clarrise got up and went out the door, closing it behind her so that the two siblings could be alone. But Jack barely noticed her departure, not while he stared at the frail form of his greying-haired sister.

"E-Emily..."

She smiled at him weakly, and pointed to the chair.

"Sit down, Jack. Don't stand there like a boy who's lost his shoes and only just noticed."

The joke make his breath catch in his throat, even as a smile tugged at his mouth. He sat down in the chair, reining in his powers so not a scrap of frost clung to his clothing. So he would not chill the air, and so that the only coolness to touch her would be his hand clasping around hers.

"I'm home."

A tear welled up from the corner of one of his eyes, running down his cheek instead of freezing as it would have normally, and she squeezed his hand.

"Don't be angry at the family, they only kept it from you because I told them to. I told them to tend me in this house, so you would not see me bedridden when you collected the letters from my home. I told them not to tell you, so that you could smile and laugh at the stories in those letters, without my illness casting a shadow over you. I told them to hide that I was ill, so that the knowledge I was dying, wouldn't spoil the Festival of First Snow."

Jack felt his lower lip tremble in prelude to a sob, but forced it down.

"You hid it, because you didn't want me to be unhappy?"

Emily nodded, still smiling.

"I knew this day would have to come eventually, and I could see that even though you knew it too, you did everything you could to ignore and deny it. You hid from those painful thoughts, because you didn't want anyone to worry about you. You didn't want your feelings to affect the happiness of the children... And so, even as you tried to deny this inevitable day, I prepared for it. To make sure it would be as painless for you as possible. That you would not have to stand by and watch me slowly fade away. That instead we would have our chance to say goodbye, but without the time for lingering regrets."

Jack took hold of her hand with both of his now, another sob threatening to escape him.

"Why? I could have been here for you. I could have come home early, during Northern Autumn, and been here at your side. You didn't have to do this alone!"

Tears flowed from her eyes now, and she sighed.

"Oh, Jack... The Spirit of Winter is here, at the bedside of a mere mortal woman, crying. You have duties, Jack, and while you will always be my brother, I have had to accept that you are part of something far bigger than me... I accepted that truth, and now you need to accept it as well. I've held on with all my heart so I could be here for you. I've held on to the belief of seeing you again, so I could help you get through this. My belief has kept me here until now, but it cannot hold me here forever, and neither can your belief stop this from happening... You have to let me go, Jack."

Jack sat there, the two of them looking at each other in silence, before he let out a shuddering breath and bowed his head, nodding. When he lifted it again, he wore an unsteady smile.

"Ok, but I'm going to be here for you. I'll be here right until the end."

Emily's gaze was searching.

"Well you can't be here _all_ the time. What about the children? They can't go without the greatest winter playmate ever." She smiled. "You've still got to tell them their first story for this winter. Which one have you chosen?"

Jack hesitated, but then returned her smile.

"The one about the Himalayan Snow Geese."

Emily's smile widened.

"That's a good one... It's been a few years since you last told that one. None of the current children have heard it."

"I know, that's why I chose it."

Jack was still doing his best not to sob or break down in tears, as Emily slipped her hand from his grasp and tucked it back under the warmth of her covers as she closed her eyes.

"Play with the children close to the house tomorrow. I want to hear you tell them their story, and I want to hear them laughing as they play their games with you."

Jack nodded, his entire body trembling even as he did his best to hide it.

"I will. I promise, they'll laugh and cheer more than you've ever heard before."

When Jack came out of the house his normally pale face was flushed, although the cool air quickly dealt with that. Thomas and Clarrise were waiting there, to give their own words and gestures of support, but he remained too hurt inside to fully accept them.

He retreated to a tree near the cabin, where he could watch Emily sleep through the gap in the shutters. She was still asleep when he went inside in the morning and sat with her for an hour, and when she at last woke up early in the afternoon, she scolded him for keeping the children waiting.

Jack laughed at that, even if only quietly, and did as he was told. He gathered the village children in the clear area behind the cabin, and sat there with them to tell them their first story of the year. And when the time came for games, he made sure that every one of them had been touched by his gift of joy and fun. Their laughter ringing out loud enough for the entire village to hear it.

It was growing late, and all but Thomas' grandchildren had gone home, when something at last interrupted the games... Clarrise, standing at the corner of the cabin watching them, and she was crying...

Jack's smile vanished in an instant, at the implication of those tears, and without a word he rushed to the open front door of the cabin and went inside.

Thomas was sat by the hearth with his head in his hands, and on the bed in the corner, Emily lay utterly still with the faintest hint of a smile on her face.

Jack dropped his staff in his haste to reach her, his cold hands taking hold of hers which had become equally as cool.

The sobs he'd held in the day previous, now came to the surface as he clung to her shaking his head in denial. But then he forced himself to look at her face, at her smile, and knew that she'd passed on in the way she had wanted... Listening to him bring happiness to the children of the village.

Jack kept his powers close, allowing his tears to soak into the front of the shirt she had made for him. Allowing himself to grieve like a normal human being, to cling to that illusion of what he was for as long as he could, until time meant that he had no choice but to do something else she'd asked him to do... Let her go.

He was there, sat in a tree, as two days later she was buried beside Albert close to the pond. Part of Jack wanted to scream in grief, to rage and bring storms to vent his emotions, but he could never do that to the village. Instead what fell were flakes so large, that the delicate six-pointed crystals of ice could be clearly seen within each clump. Every one of them was like a huge tear falling silently from the skies, unlike the glittering pebbles of ice that tapped on the branches below him after they'd tumbled from his eyes.

Jack remained where he was until all the villagers had left, before making his way down to the mound of disturbed earth and kneeling there. He then looked towards the pond, just a short way away, and fought to smile.

"Now I know how you felt, that winter I fell through the ice. You were so strong, so much stronger than me... Do you remember that day, when I came back? Do you remember us playing hopscotch by the pond, the way we used to play it every day? Do you remember how I took you onto the ice and pulled you round, never afraid to fall through again because I was there to protect you?"

He faced the grave again, and with a gentle touch he covered it with frost in a pattern of flowers.

"Wherever you are, wherever it is that people go when they die, I know you won't forget me... And I promise you, Emily, that I won't _ever_ forget you. I won't ever forget my little sister, no matter how long I live, and I will always watch over your family... Our family." He stood up and looked to the sky, taking a deep breath before letting the winds carry him upwards. "Goodbye, Emily."

The following days and weeks passed him by in a blur, his grief still raw when he visited the family, but the sharp edges were already beginning to wear down. Emily had done her work well, in making it easier for him. The sudden discovery of her condition, followed by her death the very next day, not giving time for the pain to bury itself too deep in his heart. With her death had come one other thing, the final jolt he'd needed to adjust fully to being an Immortal. It forced him to do that which he'd tried to deny for so long, to embrace without hesitation the fact that he would see generation after generation of her descendants grow old and die while he remained unchanged... And while it hurt, he knew their love and support of him, the joy he knew he would share with them, made it worth it.

But at the same time he also knew he needed to start distancing himself to a certain extent.

He struck up a new routine, where he played with the village children for two days, and then left to do other things for three. He repeated that pattern for the rest of Northern Winter, until a week before Northern Spring was due to start, he left without lingering on for a few more weeks as he'd used to.

He flew back to the Winter Sanctuary, to his ice palace, and to his room with its snowdrift-bed. The floor-length mirror he'd made thirty years previous, to check the fit of his new shirt, was still in there, and gazing into it his own solemn blue eyes gazed back.

He'd been the Spirit of Winter for fifty-seven years, and had existed for seventy-five... And now, more than ever before, he felt old. He looked young, but in his heart at this moment, he was an old man. He felt tired, and part of him wanted nothing more than for it to be over, but another part of him stubbornly clung to the will to live.

He left his icy caverns and took to the skies again, fleeing his reflection and not really thinking where he wanted to go. But the winds knew what he needed, and without him even realising it, he found himself being carried over a town where streams of golden sand were seeking out children. And then he spotted Sandy, not too far ahead.

Jack couldn't bring himself to land on the golden cloud, even when the wind urged him to, and so he dropped onto a rooftop instead. Sandy spotted him right away, and with a small frown he descended to and sat down beside the Spirit of Winter.

Jack remained unmoving in his depression, and silent, expecting Sandy would leave to continue his duties after a while. But no, the Sandman stayed where he was, and just occasionally cast a thread of dreamsand into the air to seek out any children that needed good dreams.

It was nearing dawn when Jack finally broke his silence, and only after letting out a sigh that held the weight of the world.

"My sister died... the day after I arrived home with winter. It was almost as if she... waited for me before letting go." He wiped furiously at the tears welling up and freezing on his face, and then his shoulders slumped. "Did you ever feel like this? Old and tired, wanting it to end, but knowing that you're just going to keep on living?"

Sandy reached out to pat him comfortingly on the shoulder, his expression sympathetic as he nodded.

Jack frowned at him.

"Then how did you do it? How did you make yourself keep going? How was it that you were able to accept this?"

Sandy pointed to a nearby window, at the child that could be seen tucked up in bed, and Jack understood.

"Because the children needed you... Just like the children of my village need me." Jack took a shuddering breath, and stood up before smiling at Sandy. "Thank you, for listening, and for being here for me tonight. I appreciate it."

Sandy floated up to pat him on the shoulder again in an obvious 'any time', and Jack sighed before returning the gesture and flying away. Back to the Winter Sanctuary, to wait for the next Northern Winter and the time for him to return to the children again.

~(-)~

Alaia Skyhawk: I think I went through half a box of tissues while writing this. I honestly have to say this was the hardest death-scene to write that I have ever written. I was crying from the moment I wrote Thomas telling Jack that Emily was ill.

But we have reached a turning point for Jack, and things are going to start changing for him. Almost as if Emily's lifetime was his 'childhood' as an Immortal, and now he has to grow up and move forward.


End file.
